The Fellowship Cooks Dinner
by Nari-chan SND
Summary: After a hard days worth of travelling, the Fellowship needs to make the most important descicion of their lives... who will cook dinner and what will they have? Rated what it is to be safe. Please R&R!
1. Sam

Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings.

And special thanks go to Mina to going over the story with me to get out the kinks. You rock, Mina!

* * *

The Fellowship decided to stop for the night to rest and, more importantly, eat. They all put down their burdens and collapsed onto them, with the exception of Legolas, who hadn't even broken into a sweat over the day's brutal excursions.

"I'm starved." Pippin said. "What's for dinner?"

"Uh…" The rest of the Fellowship said. They hadn't had the forethought to work out who would be cooking during their journey.

"Well," Gandalf said, "does anybody feel like cooking?"

"No." Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Frodo, and Boromir flatly said at the same time.

"Oh! I'll do it!" Sam said, raising his hand, eagerly.

"Anybody at all?" Gandalf asked, oblivious to all of the Fellowship members' inputs.

"Oh! Me! Pick me!" Sam said, raising his hand higher.

"Come on, somebody here has to know how to cook!" Gandalf exclaimed, folding his arms crossly, oblivious to his surroundings as usual.

"FOR THE LOVE OF TATERS, PICK ME!" Sam yelled, his face turning red with the fury of having to deal with a nitwit like Gandalf.

Gandalf faced Sam. "Did you say something, Samwise?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

Sam took several deep breaths and regained his composure. "I said that I would be more than delighted to cook the evening meal, Gandalf, sir."

"It's settled then!" Gandalf exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. "So what will we be having?"

All at once, the members of the Fellowship, except for Frodo, Gandalf, and Sam yelled out what they wanted for dinner.

"Apples, bread, and soup!" Merry yelled.

"Lembas!" Legolas said with a smile. Elves never yell.

"Food!" Aragorn and Boromir shouted, both being indifferent.

"Salted pork!" Gimli bellowed.

"Anything that can be killed, cut up, and thrown into a stew!" Pippin yelled at the end of the clamor with a mad glint in his eyes, looking at Sam in an odd way. Sam looked nervous and edged away from Pippin. The rest of the Fellowship gave Pippin a long stare.

"What? I'm hungry! And when I'm hungry, I do things!" Pippin said. Everyone edged away from him now.

"I'm not sleeping anywhere near you tonight." Boromir commented.

"Yes, let's tie up the little scoundrel for the night. That way, he can't get to any of us." Gimli added in.

"People, people! Let's focus here!" Aragorn yelled before anything got too off-topic. "So what **are** we going to eat tonight?"

Before anyone could cut in, Sam got up from where he was sitting. "I don't take no requests!" He said. "You eat what I make. Is that clear?"

"Uh…" The rest of the Fellowship, except for Pippin, said.

"You die first." Pippin muttered to Sam, who squealed and ran off to go gather ingredients for his meal.

* * *

Sam had made a small fire and was now making a stew in the middle of a ring of rather bored Fellowship members.

"Is it done yet?" Boromir asked in a bored tone of voice, not even looking at the stew pot Sam was tending to.

"No! So quit asking!" Sam snapped, slightly twitching.

"How 'bout now? Is it done now?" Boromir asked partly to tick off the Hobbit and partly to goad him into finishing the stew quicker.

"It'll be done when it's been simmering for 44 minutes, 11 seconds, and 15 milliseconds!" Sam snapped back. "Now quit asking!"

"Did you just make that number up?" Merry asked.

"No! It's in this cookbook I own! It's my most coveted possession!" Sam stuck the book in Merry's nose. "See? It says: constantly stir stew counterclockwise at a simmer for 44 minutes, 11 seconds, and 15 milliseconds!"

"Okay, okay! I believe you!" Merry said, shoving Sam's book out of his face.

"Good!" Sam said.

"So, how much time has it been, Sam?" Frodo asked.

"43 minutes, 13 seconds, and 1 millisecond, give or take." Sam replied.

"So what if it doesn't cook for that extra minute or two!" Boromir exclaimed. "Just take it off and let us eat already! I'm starving!"

"Besides," Aragorn said, "it's not like we'd get food poisoning or die or something if we ate it when it didn't cook for the full time."

Sam twitched. "But that would be breaking the rules set by my cookbook! And the rules cannot be broken. The rules are law." Sam said in a zombie-like voice.

"Hey, Sam, can I see that book?" Pippin asked.

"What are you going to do to it?" Sam asked, holding the sacred cookbook to his chest.

"I'm just really fascinated, that's all." Pippin said innocently.

"Well… okay." Sam said, handing Pippin the cookbook and then getting back to stirring the stew in a **counterclockwise** motion.

Pippin looked at the title and read it aloud, "A Stupid Fat Hobbit's Guide to Cooking." He leafed through it for a moment and then began to eat it, ripping pages out and sticking them into his mouth.

Sam clutched his hands to his heart as if Pippin had fatally wounded him. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He yelled. "MY PRECIOUSSSSSSSSS!"

Pippin chuckled as he chewed the book to a pulp.

"Hey, Boromir." Aragorn said to him as Sam twitched on the ground.

"What?"

"I dare you to do a taste-test."

"Sure." Boromir said with an evil grin, rubbing his hands together. He started to walk over to the stew pot. He extended a finger towards the stew. Slowly, his finger headed for the stew.

Sam suddenly stopped twitching. He sat up, eyes wide and alert. He saw the culprit-to-be, the one who would ruin his perfect stew. He slapped Boromir's hand away. "Now don't you be doin' that!" He snapped. "You'd be ruinin' my perfect stew with your dirty fingers!"

Boromir looked at his hands. "They're not that dirty. See?" He showed his hands to Sam.

"Well," Sam said, "there are tiny things all over your hands." Boromir looked insulted, drew back his hands, and looked closely at them.

"I don't see anything." He muttered.

"Well, of course you can't! They're micro-organisms. They collect on your hands no matter how many times you wash them. If you put your finger in the stew, they'd soil it! Even my hands are not fit to touch the holy stew!"

"Whoa! My head hurts!" Boromir said, putting his hand to his forehead. "You use big words I can't understand, like Faramir always does! And I don't like that!"

Sam snickered. Then, he looked at the stew and smiled. "It's done!"

"Finally!" All of the Fellowship exclaimed and began to crowd around the stew pot. But before they could dig in, Sam held his hand up.

"Wait a moment!" He said. "Let's just take a moment to appreciate the stew! Marvel at its beauty. Look at it not as the next meal that will sustain you for one more day, but as a work of art. Admire the golden taters cut into perfect cubes." The Fellowship's mouths began to water.

"Look at the meat," Sam continued, "freshly killed and cooked and in perfect ratio to the taters." Pippin groaned in longing.

"Look at all of the other vegetables." Sam ranted. "Admire all of the other ingredients. Luxuriate as the aroma takes you in." This was too much for the Fellowship being tantalized by the divine stew and not being able to obtain it.

"LET'S EAT!" Pippin bellowed.

All at once, the Fellowship trampled Sam and began to heap huge amounts of stew into their bowls. They then voraciously consumed their meal.

Sam got up after being trampled and looked into the stew pot. "You could at least have saved some for me!"

They all turned to look at Sam, their mouths full of the stew.

* * *

**Nari**: So what did you think? Good? Bad? A horrific piece that should be burned? Please tell me and leave lots of reviews! 


	2. Legolas

Discliamer: Alas, I still do not own Lord of the Rings!

* * *

Once more, after a hard days worth of traveling, the Fellowship stopped for the night.

"I'm famished!" Pippin groaned. "Who's going to cook tonight?"

"Well, I am, of course!" Sam exclaimed, indignantly.

"NO!" Yelled the rest of the Fellowship in eerie unison.

"Why not?" Sam demanded.

"It took _forever_ the last time _you_ cooked." Pippin said.

"Sam, don't take this the wrong way." Frodo said gently to his friend. "The meal was delicious, but the rest of the Fellowship thinks that we should alternate on who's cooking dinner for the next nine days. Whoever cooks the best meal is permanently the chef for all future dinners. I had the final say in this as Ringbearer." Frodo looked down at the ground in shame, making it look like he did not like to betray his good friend, but under his breath he muttered, "Thank goodness. It would've been faster if a snail had cooked dinner."

Merry and Aragorn, who were sitting down near Frodo collapsed into spasms of snickers at this comment.

"So, who will be cooking tonight?" Gandalf asked. "Who would like to volunteer?"

Nobody volunteered.

"Well don't all get up at once." Gandalf said, sarcastically.

"Well, Gandalf," Aragorn said. "If you're so intent on enlisting a cook, why don't you cook dinner?"

Gandalf's eyes bulged. "I'm not sure you'd want to have me do that."

"Why not?" Aragorn asked.

"Well, umm… I don't want to talk about it."

"Come on, Gandalf," Boromir prodded. "You're a wizard. Compared to all that hocus-pocus you do, cooking a simple meal should be a cakewalk!"

Gandalf turned on Boromir, eyes flashing. "How about you? Would you like to cook?"

"Umm…" Boromir gulped. "You probably wouldn't want that, either." Boromir's eyes shifted, looking to put the spotlight on somebody else. He found his target. "Why not Frodo? I'm sure he's a good cook!"

Frodo squeaked, eyes bulging. "Um… No."

"Why not?" Boromir asked.

"Um… well…" Frodo looked for an out. He then puffed up his chest with self-importance and said, "Because I'm Ringbearer and what I say goes!"

Pippin groaned "Oh for the love of the Shire, just pick someone already before I eat Fatty over here!" Sam squeaked and ran behind Gandalf, who shoved him away.

"Fine… I pick Aragorn!" Frodo exclaimed.

Aragorn jumped. "What, me! Why me!"

Frodo smirked. "Because I'm Ringbearer and what I say goes."

Aragorn drew his sword. "How about I just cut you into ribbon, boil you into a stew…" Pippin cheered. "…and we pick a new Ringbearer?" He threatened. Frodo screamed.

"Aragorn, settle down!" Legolas, the only member of the Fellowship still bubbling with un-channeled energy, interjected. "You're all just tired and irritated, that's all! Calm down and just pick someone to cook. We're all going to have to do it eventually!"

"Shut it, Pretty-boy!" Aragorn growled and pointed his sword at Legolas, who squealed indignantly and held Gimli in front of him as a shield.

"Put me down you great big coward!" Gimli bellowed, flailing around. "Put me down before I put a hurting on you!" Legolas snorted at Gimli's threat and did not yield. "I mean it, you know!" Gimli continued to yell.

"Fine, fine! Aragorn won't cook!" Frodo said. "Would you, Legolas?"

"If I have to…" The elf sighed and put Gimli down to go gather ingredients.

* * *

"Ugh! What is this?" Gimli groaned in agony.

"It's a salad." Legolas said. "We eat it all the time at Mirkwood!"

"Ugh! A salad! You mean a bunch o' leaves thrown together with a bunch o' rabbit-food, stale bread and a wee dab o' sauce!" Gimli groaned. "This is no proper meal for what we're doing!"

Legolas frowned. "Well, if you don't like it, then you can always go hungry tonight."

"Fine! I'll eat your cursed salad!" Gimli said, shoveling it into his mouth and making disgusted faces as he did so.

The rest of the Fellowship, with the exception of Legolas, also ate their salads, grimacing in disgust. Legolas, unfortunately for them, had forgotten one of the key ingredients to a salad. The dressing.

* * *

**Nari**: What did you think? Was it good or was it bad? Please tell me! I would also like to thank all of the five people who reviewed for the first chapter! You guys rock out loud! Anyway, please leave lots of reviews! 


	3. Gimli

Disclaimer: Nope… still don't own it!

* * *

The Fellowship had finished their days worth of traveling and settled down and started the most arduous part of their day… deciding who was going to cook dinner. 

"Well… who's it going to be tonight?" Aragorn mused, stretching his legs. The other eight members of the Fellowship started to open their mouths. "And before you say anything, no, I'm not going to be doing any cooking."

"Well, I'm not, either," interjected Gandalf, "… and Sam and Legolas already did their fair share… So, who does that leave?"

"Well… there's Merry…" Said Sam.

"…Frodo…" Added Merry.

"…Boromir…" Frodo quickly said.

"…and Gimli…" Boromir said, passing the torch.

"Hey! What about me!" Pippin said indignantly. "I haven't cooked yet!"

"No, Pippin, I would not let you cook unless we had to." Gandalf replied (note that he said the same thing about the Mines of Moria).

"So…" The eight members of the Fellowship turned to their next victim. And he was…

* * *

"Well, yes, I am the cook. I understand that part! But, tell me again why I have to wear all of this?" Gimli grunted in indignation, gesturing to his chef's garbs, which consisted of a large, white, and ridiculously mushroom-shaped chef's hat, which was far too big for him and a white apron that said, 'Kiss the Vertically Challenged Cook'. 

"Because it's funny." Legolas replied with an amused laugh.

"Fine, I'll wear the stinkin' gear." Gimli replied. "But I'm cooking what _I_ want. I won't be making any of that rabbit-food." All of the other Fellowship members, with the exception of Legolas, cheered. "We're going to be havin' a _real_ meal tonight!"

"So," Pippin said, looking at Gimli intently, "What are we going to be eating tonight? Please tell me it consists of about 10-20 courses! I've missed so many meals today and I must make up for them!"

Gimli looked thoughtful, if that was indeed possible. "Patience, young Hobbit," he said, "you'll find out soon enough!"

* * *

"So… hungry…" Pippin moaned and began to chew on Sam's fingernails. Sam snatched his hand back. 

"Hey!" Sam snapped. "Chew your own fingernails!"

"I already did." Pippin said, showing Sam his fingernails.

Sam moved away from Pippin. "You're weird," he said.

"Thank you." Pippin replied with a smile.

"Gimli, what are you making over there?" Merry asked, interrupting Sam and Pippin's conversation.

"Whatever it is," Boromir interjected, "it smells good enough." He groaned and slightly twitched as the strong smell of cooking meat wafted over to him.

"Patience, everyone!" Gimli cried from where he was standing. He had rigged a small contraption over the flames so that he could roast meat over it. "The salted pork's almost done!"

"Good!" Frodo said. "I'm starved! And as Ringbearer, I get dibs on the best cut of the pork!"

The rest of the Fellowship shot Frodo death-glares.

"What?" Frodo said. "I mean, after all, I am the Ringbearer. I'm the most important person here." The other members of the Fellowship twitched simultaneously. "That means that I get the best of everything. After all, the rest of you are along to assist me! That means you're all my subordinates!" This caused all of the other members, including Gimli, to explode.

"Hello! I'm the guide!" Gandalf cried. "Without me, you'd probably be heading towards who-knows-where! Also," he gestured to his staff, "I'm a wizard! That means I could turn you all into neon pink fuzzy bunny slippers if I wanted to!" At this thought, all of the other members of the Fellowship shuddered, for they had no desire to be anything pink, fuzzy, or cute. "Therefore," Gandalf continued, "I should get the best cut of the food!"

"Well, I'm tonight's cook!" Gimli bellowed. "Without me, you would probably be eating more rabbit-food!" Legolas glared at Gimli. "Not to mention that I didn't have to go on this quest! I chose to! I'm just as important as anybody else here! I should get the best piece!" After having his say, Gimli turned back to the salted pork.

"Well, I'm an elf!" Legolas interjected. "And that says it all!"

"Well, Sam, Pippin, and I knew about you leaving the Shire and about the Ring before you even left and we didn't tell!" Merry snapped. "That's pretty important!"

"Yeah!" Sam and Pippin agreed.

"And I'm me!" Pippin said. "That's got to count for something!"

"So what?" Aragorn cut in. "I'm Gondor's future king! Not to mention, I'm a Ranger and I saved all of your sorry behinds!" He said, gesturing to the Hobbits. "Especially you!" He pointed to Frodo. "I should get the best piece!"

"I don't give a Nazgul's toe clippings if you're the future King of the Flying Tree-Squirrels!" Boromir snapped to Aragorn.

Somewhere in the far distance, an almighty cry of, "SQUIRRELS!" was heard.

Boromir paused for a moment. "Was that Faramir?" He mused.

The rest of the Fellowship stared at him, expecting an explanation.

"My younger brother. He has an unnatural phobia of squirrels."

"SQUIRRELS!" Another shout was heard.

"I don't know how he heard me all the way from here, though. He's all the way back in Gondor… Anyway… Back to my point… I'm the Steward's son! And he could kick the bucket at any time, so I'm practically Steward of Gondor! And that mean's you'd have to go through me to become King! So, Aragorn, you should really start treating me better… Not that I'd let you be King anyway. That'd happen over my cold, dead body!"

"That can be arranged." Aragorn growled.

"You wanna go at it?"

"Bring it on!"

Aragorn and Boromir lunged at each other and started rolling on the ground, fighting. The Fellowship members, with the exception of Gimli, watched the fighting pair, cheering for their selected favorite the give the other a black eye.

"It's done!" Gimli cried out at a convenient time. Aragorn and Boromir paused in the middle of their fight, stopped, and companionably went over to the rest of the Fellowship as if they had not just been fighting

Gimli carried a large plate filled with large slaps of cooked pork, which was oozing with juices, over to the Fellowship. The Hobbits could not resist.

"FOOD!" They all yelled and ferociously lunged at the plate and Gimli, who dropped the plate of food in fright and got out of the way of the food-crazed Hobbits.

The Hobbits each grabbed large slabs of the salted pork and carried it over to their original sitting places and began to voraciously tear their pieces of meat apart. It was only then that the rest of the Fellowship felt it safe to serve themselves.

Legolas went over to the plate laden with the pork and took one look at it. With a distasteful sniff, he walked away from the plate. "That food looks disgusting. It's practically oozing with fat and it's caked in salt. It's a heart-attack just waiting to happen! I think I'll go over there and eat with Bill." Legolas walked over to where the Fellowship's burden-pony was and began to rip up grass and eat it.

"Whiner-baby!" Gimli yelled to the elf. "I ate your stinkin' _salad_!" He spat out the word as if it were as evil as Sauron himself.Gimli then took his piece of salted pork.

"Legolas!" Pippin said. "If you're not going to eat, can I have your piece?"

"Wait there, Pippin!" Frodo said, "I'm the Ringbearer. That means that I should get the extra!"

"Well, then, I could always eat you!" Pippin said.

"Take it!" Frodo yelled and ran away with his piece of salted pork.

Aragorn and Boromir shrugged and took their pieces and sat down to eat it.

Gandalf sighed. "Hobbits," he muttered as he took his piece and followed the men.

Although the pork was overly salted, the Fellowship enjoyed it, preferring it over Legolas' tasteless salad of the night before.

* * *

**Nari**: So, what did you think? Was it good or bad? Please tell me! I would also like to thank all of the people who reviewed for the previous chapter. Thank you so much! Anyway, please leave lots of reviews! 


	4. Merry

Disclaimer: Um… let's think for a bit… … … … … … … … … Nope! Still don't own it!

* * *

"I think we'll stop here for tonight." Gandalf proclaimed. 

"Why? Getting tired, old man?" Boromir teased.

"I wonder how you'd look as a newt…" Gandalf said, fingering his staff.

Boromir's eyes widened. "Um… I didn't say that! What I meant to say was, 'Gosh, Gandalf! Thank you so much! I was really getting tired!'"

Gandalf smiled in satisfaction. "Since you think you're so clever, Boromir, would you like to cook tonight?"

Boromir's eyes got wider. "Is being turned into a newt still an option?"

Gandalf raised his eyebrows.

"Seriously, the last thing you'd want is to have me cook."

Higher went those cynical eyebrows.

Boromir began to feel miffed at the wizard. "Look, I'll cook, but it's only fair to warn you that I had kitchen duty for one day in the military. The day after I cooked, nobody, including myself, could fight. They all complained about-"

"Okay, Boromir! You're not cooking tonight!" Aragorn interjected. "And I'm certainly not!"

"And not I!" Gandalf said. "Nor will Sam, Legolas, or Gimli. That leaves us with Frodo…"

"I'm the Ringbearer. I don't get kitchen duty." Frodo commented.

Gandalf twitched in annoyance but chose to ignore this. "… Merry…"

"Do I have to?"

Gandalf rolled his eyes. "And… nobody else is left."

"Hey, Gandalf!" Pippin said. "What about me?"

"No, Peregrin Took, once more, I would not let you cook unless we had to," Said Gandalf.

Pippin pouted to himself and muttered that he hoped that sometime during the quest, Gandalf's life would be cut short, due to something involving fiery demons and falling down a bottomless chasm.

"So, it's settled then!" Frodo exclaimed. "Merry! Thank you for volunteering!"

"What?" Merry yelled. "Why me?"

"Because I'm the Ringbearer and what I say goes."

"You know," Merry said, "that's _really_ getting annoying. I mean, who's to say that one of us other Hobbits couldn't be the Ringbearer?"

Frodo twitched. "You just want it for yourself!" He cradled the Ring. "But you're not getting it! It's mine! My own! My precioussssssssssss." He stroked the Ring, fondly.

The rest of the Fellowship stared at him, blankly.

"Maybe somebody else _should_ take the Ring…" Sam said.

"Oh! I'll do it!" Boromir said, raising his hand, eagerly. "I'll take the Ring!"

Frodo drew Sting and pointed it at Boromir's throat.

"Whoa, there, Frodo, take it easy with that thing… you could seriously hurt someone with that…" Boromir said.

"You're not taking anything, Nazgul-snogger!"

"Hey! I never snogged a Nazgul! Take that back!" Boromir snarled.

"No!"

"Take it back!" Boromir drew his sword.

"Oooh! Boromir's got his sword out! I'm soooooooo scared!" Frodo said sarcastically, stupidly removing Sting from Boromir's throat to put his hands to his face in mock-horror. "What are you going to do? You're the worst fighter here! You're even worse than Sam!"

"Oi, Mr. Frodo, I resent that!" Sam said.

"I do too!" Boromir said. "I'm perfectly good at fighting! In fact, I'm probably the best one here! Take back all of what you said or Pippin's going to be eating you in a stew tonight!"

"Never!" Frodo yelled.

Boromir gave an angry yell and began to chase Frodo around, waving his sword menacingly and maniacally laughing. "Come on, Sam!" He cried. "Let's get him!"

Sam drew his sword and began to chase a shrilly screaming Frodo as well.

The rest of the Fellowship was watching the scene, amused.

"Shouldn't we be trying to break this up?" Aragorn whispered to Gandalf.

"We could, but what fun would that be?" Gandalf replied. "And, after all, Frodo was starting to get on my nerves. I dare say, I would've gone after him soon myself; Boromir and Sam just beat me to it."

The rest of the Fellowship murmured in agreement.

Legolas tapped Merry on the shoulder. "You should really get going with that dinner." He said.

"Fine… I'll make dinner…" Merry said, sulking off to get his ingredients.

* * *

When Merry returned, he saw that the chaos amongst the Fellowship was continuing. Boromir and Sam were still chasing Frodo around; Boromir had somehow managed to get a hold of Gandalf's staff and was now trying to either toast Frodo to a crisp or turn him into something unnatural. Strangely enough, Gandalf was smiling and laughing; making no attempt to re-gain the possession of his staff.

"I've got our dinner." Merry said to the spectators of the skirmish between Boromir, Sam, and Frodo. He set down a woven basket filled with apples.

"Oh, good!" Aragorn exclaimed. "Dinner and a show!" He took an apple from the basket.

"Well, it took you long enough!" Gimli said, taking an apple as well. He looked at it. "Is this all?"

Merry nodded. "We're having apples for dinner."

"Just apples?" Pippin whined. "Not even apples and some bread? Or some meat?"

"Oh, don't worry about the meat, Pip." Merry said. "If Boromir and Sam have it their way, you can just eat Frodo."

"It took you an hour to collect apples?" Gimli asked.

"Well, of course not! I had to weave the basket to carry them in as well! That accounted for most of my time! After all, as Sam always says," Merry cleared his throat and began an uncanny imitation of Sam's voice, "'Although it's import that the food tastes good, the presentation of it is just as important. You can't have a good meal without it looking good.'"

Gimli frowned. "That's the biggest load of bologna I've ever heard." He took a large bite out of his apple.

The rest of the spectators seized their own apples and began to munch on them as Boromir and Sam chased Frodo around the field that they had stopped in. They hissed in disappointment as one of Boromir's blasts from Gandalf's staff narrowly missed Frodo, who squealed and began to run faster.

"You know, I think we could've gone on a little longer if they had all that energy to run for an hour more." Aragorn commented.

"Yes, that's true," Gandalf replied, taking a large bite out of his apple, "but I couldn't have gone on for another hour."

"Pansy," Aragorn said.

"Be careful what you say, Aragorn, or you might join Boromir in becoming something unnatural and slimy." Gandalf replied.

That shut Aragorn up.

"Stop chasing me!" Frodo shrieked to Boromir and Sam.

"Not until you apologize!" Boromir and Sam replied.

"Never!" Frodo yelled. He then shrieked as Boromir fired another blast that nearly hit him. "You're both possessed by the Ring! Stop this madness!"

"Not until you apologize for all that you've done to insult us!" They said.

"Okay! I'm sorry! Now will you stop chasing me? Merry's prepared dinner for us!" Frodo shrieked.

"You also have to agree to cook tomorrow night's meal!" Boromir said.

"Fine!"

"And," Sam added on, "you have to stop saying that being the Ringbearer makes you more important than the rest of us. It feels so… degrading…"

"Fine!" Frodo replied.

"And…" They both added on.

"… you have to do tomorrow's trek in a dress that I stole, I mean, borrowed from Rosie and you have to cluck like a chicken every time food is mentioned." Sam said.

"… you have to give Gondor the Ring." Boromir said.

"Yes to Sam! Never to Boromir!" Frodo replied.

"Oh well," Boromir said, "it was worth a try." He and Sam both stopped running around and went to join the now thoroughly disappointed spectators. They each picked up apples and began to munch on them contentedly.

"Here's your staff, Gandalf." Boromir said in between bites of an apple, handing the staff back to Gandalf. "Thanks for letting me borrow it."

"No problem," Gandalf replied happily, grabbing his third apple. "You know I'm always more than happy to help."

The rest of the Fellowship, with the exception of Frodo, chuckled.

Frodo quickly took an apple and ate it, nervously and intently watching the members of the Fellowship who had outwardly opposed him. He'd always though Boromir might try a stunt like that… but he never thought that Sam would do anything. It proved to him that as Ringbearer he stood alone and that he could trust nobody… not even his closest friends…

That night, every member of the Fellowship with the exception of Frodo had a hard time sleeping, anticipating the next day. For they knew that it would be extremely heartening to see Frodo's antics for the next day.

* * *

**Nari**: So, what'd you think? Was it good or bad? I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed for the previous chapter! Thank you so much! Please leave lots of reviews! 


	5. Frodo

Disclaimer: I still don't own it! (twitch) So quit asking! I hate being reminded!

* * *

Everyone, especially Boromir and Sam, were excited that morning. Frodo pretended to be sleeping in, but Gandalf and Aragorn got him up. 

Sam had already gotten the dress out. It was horridly pink with lots of frilly lace everywhere. A pink heart, also lined with the dreaded frilly lace, was embroidered on the chest.

"Here you go, Mr. Frodo!" Sam said with an evil smile on his face.

Frodo gave Sam a death-glare. "I hate you so much right now…"

"Of course you do!" Sam replied. "Now put the dress on."

Frodo sighed, turned his back to the rest of the Fellowship, pulled off his old garbs and put the dress on.

"Now turn around," Sam said.

"No!" Frodo said. "I feel stupid!"

Boromir began to reach for Gandalf's staff. "I'd do it if I were you…" He said in a threatening voice. "Or you might just happen to spontaneously combust!" He paused. "Did I just use 'spontaneously' and 'combust' correctly and in the same sentence?"

Everyone nodded. Boromir cheered and began to do a gloating dance.

Frodo got out a dictionary and looked up 'spontaneously' and 'combust'. Then, he shrieked and turned around. "There, you happy?" He asked.

Everybody burst out laughing. Frodo fit every part of the definition, 'ridiculous'. He looked eerily like a very young girl with short, curly hair and very hairy legs, and hairier feet… Okay, maybe not so much a young _human_ girl as a young _hobbit_ girl.

Boromir and Sam were shrieking with hysterical laugher, since Frodo wouldn't be wearing the dress if they weren't for them. Aragorn and Gandalf were doubled over with their laughter, Gimli was roaring with laughter, and Merry and Pippin were rolling on the ground, pounding their fists on it. Legolas put a hand over his mouth to cover up his silent laughter.

"At least you're laughing _with_ me and not _at_ me, right?" Frodo queried.

"I hate to burst your bubble, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, "But we're laughing _at_ you, not _with_ you! I mean, you look so stupid! If only you could see yourself!"

This comment caused Frodo the blush with embarrassment and the rest of the Fellowship to burst into renewed fits of laughter.

"Oh, I know!" Legolas produced a makeup kit and snickered. "You'd look better if you had some make-up on!" Legolas sprang to the Hobbit, despite his protests. The rest of the Fellowship roared with harder laughter and goaded Legolas on as the elf did the poor Hobbit's face.

When Legolas stepped back, the rest of the Fellowship's laughter doubled. Frodo looked like a china doll with hairy legs and feet. His lips were now ruby-red and his cheeks were the color of roses. His eyes were highlighted with eyeliner.

"I… won't… even… ask… why… you… carry… that… around…" Aragorn gasped between laughing spasms.

"That's because you probably don't want to know." Legolas said.

"Well… said…!" Aragorn replied.

"Wait!" Sam said and produced a bunch of pink ribbons with hearts on them and handed them to Frodo. "You forgot to put on the matching ribbons!" Frodo grumbled as he attached the ribbons to his hair, only making him look more ridiculous.

Merry stared blankly at Sam. "You know," he told Sam, "You've developed quite an unhealthy obsession for that Rosie-girl if you're carrying all of that around with you!"

"Yeah, really!" Boromir, who was standing near the Hobbits, put in. "You forget to pack something as important as rope, and later obsess over it a great deal, and yet you remember something as trivial, yet entertaining in the present situation, as clothes of a girl that you stalk but never talk to!"

Sam shrugged. "You got me there. But, sometimes I like to-"

"We don't want to know!" Merry and Boromir said.

In the middle of the entire clamor, Pippin said, "I'm hungry! Can we have some food?"

There was a moment of silence as every member of the Fellowship turned to look at Frodo.

"Quit staring at me!" Frodo shrieked. "I feel stupid enough without all of you staring at me!"

"You're supposed to cluck." Boromir said.

"What?" Frodo asked.

"Don't you remember the second part of the deal?" Sam said. "You have to wear the dress for the whole day _and_ _you have to cluck every time someone mentions food_."

"Oh, darn!" Frodo said. "Cluck."

"Come on!" Boromir exclaimed. "Put a little more emotion into it! Make that cluck believable!"

Frodo briefly considered mauling Boromir with Sting, but then noticed that Boromir had inconveniently placed himself by Gandalf and his staff. Still, it was fun to fantasize.

"Go on!" Sam said.

"Cluck!" Frodo said.

Boromir and Sam burst out laughing and rolled on the ground.

"Alright, everyone!" Gandalf said. "That's enough fooling around for one morning! We must now embark on today's quest!"

"Great, more walking." Boromir said, sarcastically.

"Nobody said you had to come with us!" Aragorn told the man.

"Yeah, we'd be better off without you, psychopath!" Frodo said.

"Well, how else am I supposed to get home? In case you forgot, my horse left me to die some time before I got to Rivendell so I'd have to walk anyway… and misery loves company. And, to you, Frodo, I'm not a psychopath! I resent that! Just because my Father's crazy doesn't mean I am!" Boromir said.

"People, stop it!" Gandalf yelled. "If you don't, I'll be forced to turn you all into newts! And do quit yelling! Keep in mind we're trying to maintain secrecy, here! It's not like we're on vacation!"

"We're not?" Sam said.

"Yeah, and I thought Boromir blew our secrecy out of the water when he just _had_ to toot that horn of his when we departed from Rivendell!" Frodo commented.

"Which one?" Pippin said and snickered.

Boromir rolled his eyes and muttered, "So immature…"

"Says the man who laughs at Hobbits cross-dressing and somebody clucking." Legolas commented.

"Hey, you were laughing too!" Boromir said.

"At the dress, yes, but not at the clucking!" Legolas retorted.

"Then how do you justify _your_ laughing at the dress?"

"I'm the youngest of my people, okay? I have the right to be childish!"

"Well, you're sure older than me! You're, what, a hundred years old? Two hundred?"

Legolas shrugged. "I've lost count."

"See? You're one of the oldest here, next to Mithrandir... No offense intended, Gandalf."

"I'm used to it." Gandalf said. "Now, if we could kindly start before the sun sets…?"

"But what about breakfast?" Pippin asked.

"You get leftovers." Gandalf replied.

"From what?" Pippin asked.

"From Merry's dinner." Gandalf responded.

"But they're just apples!"

"Eat up." Gandalf said, giving Pippin an apple. Pippin gave Gandalf a death-glare and once again wished that sometime during the quest, Gandalf's life would be cut short, due to something involving fiery demons and falling down a bottomless chasm.

With that said the Fellowship packed up and embarked upon their epic quest.

* * *

During the whole trek, Boromir and Sam mercilessly taunted Frodo about his dress and commenting about how the color really brought out his eyes and how the Ring complemented the dress so much. When they started to talk about painting the Ring pink everyone could see the Ring itself shudder and somewhere far off in Mordor, Sauron gave a cry of despair. 

Additional methods of torturing Frodo included loudly singing contrived songs about him, mentioning food on purpose to get him to make the clucking noise, and just pointing and laughing at him.

Around mid-afternoon, they had just finished a rousing chorus of 'Hobbit with a Pink Dress On' (1), which was accompanied by a square-dance around Frodo, who was turning redder and redder.

Then Sam and Boromir whispered together for a moment and then Boromir began a clearly staged conversation, "Hey, Sam?"

"What Boromir?" Sam responded.

Bother snickered for a moment and then Boromir said his line. "Are you hungry?"

"Why, yes I am, Boromir." Sam replied. "I think I'd fancy some _food_!"

"Cluck!" Frodo said, giving a livid stare at Sam.

Boromir and Sam both laughed hysterically. Then, Boromir said, "Gee, now that you mention it, Sam, I could go with some _food_-"

"Cluck!"

"-myself." Boromir finished.

As the two filled the previous silence with their piercing laughter, the rest of the Fellowship stopped walking. Gandalf turned around and headed toward them, eyes blazing with anger.

"Samwise Gamgee! Boromir!" Gandalf yelled and Boromir and Sam jumped. Then, Gandalf began to accost them. "Does the meaning of 'secrecy' mean anything to either of you?"

"Uh…" They both said.

"I mean, honestly," Gandalf continued to yell, "we're going on a secret quest to destroy the Ring in Mordor and you're blowing our cover!"

"Uh, Gandalf…" Sam and Boromir began.

"DON'T INTERRUPT ME!" Gandalf continued to yell. "AND HERE YOU TWO GO ON LAUGHING LIKE A BUNCH OF WITLESS CHILDREN OVER A TASTELESS JOKE SO THAT EVERY SINGLE SPY OF THE ENEMY CAN HEAR YOU-!"

"Gandalf…" The rest of the Fellowship now began, worry in their voices.

"-AND ALL OF OUR CHANCES OF DESROYING THE RING OF POWER, ALSO KNOWN AS THE ONE RING, IN MORDOR WILL BE GONE!" Gandalf was breathing very heavily. "I'll admit it was funny at first, but after putting up with several hours of it, it's just gotten to be annoying. So, what do you have to say for yourselves?"

"Gandalf?" They all said.

"Yes?"

"You're yelling."

"I don't see what that has to do with anything! I was just lecturing these bumbling nitwits about making loud noises that could potentially blow our cover!"

"Yelling counts as a loud noise." Aragorn said. "And, to make things worse, Saruman's bird-spies were listening."

"And what makes you think that?" Gandalf asked.

"Well, because they flew over us while you were accosting Sam and Boromir."

"Oh…" Gandalf looked to see a cloud of black birds flying off towards the Redhorn Gate, which is where Gandalf was leading the Fellowship. "Huh… I guess that means we can't go to the Redhorn… it's probably being watched… or it will shortly be… We should alter our course… Any ideas?"

* * *

The spies of Saruman made haste to Isengard, where their master eagerly awaited their return. 

"What have you learned?" He asked the birds.

"Well, we found the Fellowship." Said one of the birds. "There were nine of them."

"Describe each of them to me." Saruman commanded.

"Well, sir, the first one was a midget."

"Can you be more specific? What kind of midget?"

"Well… umm… he had a beard…"

"Ah! They have a dwarf!"

"Then again, my eyes haven't been so great lately. You know, I've been meaning to go see an optometrist, but these spy missions haven't given me any opportunity… Hey, guys, did that one guy look like a hairy midget with a beard?" the bird asked his companions.

"The one talking to the pretty-boy about what food is better? Oh, yeah. Definitely!" The others said.

"Yes, yes…" Saruman said, "I don't care much about the dwarf! Who else was there?"

"Well, there was that pretty-boy. He was tall with blonde hair." The bird said.

"Oh, that's very specific!" Saruman said, sarcastically.

"Oh yeah, and he was bragging about how he could see us ever since they had departed from Rivendell and how he betted he could shoot a single arrow through ten of us at once, and…"

"Yes, yes." Saruman cut the spy off, irritated. Honestly, sometimes it could be quite frustrating to deal with incompetent help. "He's obviously an elf! Who else could boast such ridiculous things? Who else was there?"

"Well… umm… let's see…" The wicked bird said. "There were two other hairy midgets…"

"Two more dwarfs." Saruman said.

"No." The bird replied. "They didn't have beards. But, they did have very hairy feet."

"Ah! Hobbits! Excellent! Tell me, was one carrying a trinket? A ring, perhaps?" Saruman asked.

"Oh, come on! How good do you think my vision is, anyway?" The bird snapped.

"It would be shiny."

"Oooh! Shiny!" the bird said. "I don't remember seeing anything shiny on either one of them!"

"Then I don't care about them. What else did you see?"

"Well, we saw a man."

"Okay…"

"He kept on talking about what a dump Gondor was and what kinds of things he was going to do to it when he became King. He was also muttering something about executing a Boromir chap."

"Ah… Isildur's heir. By eliminating this sorry group, I can kill two birds with one stone!"

"Ahem!" Said the bird. "We take umbrage to that! I mean, we birds have feelings, too! How would you like if I said, 'Oh, well if I do this, I can kill two wizards with one dropping!'? I don't think you'd like it very much, would you?"

Saruman began to open his mouth to respond, but the bird continued to rant.

"I mean, really! What is it with people and their bird-related expressions? First that elf talking about killing ten of us with one arrow, you and your killing of two of us with a stone, also that thing about the early birds and the worms, and that saying about us and bees! I mean, come on, you people need to get a little more creative with your expressions!"

Saruman held up a hand to silence the thoroughly vexed bird. "That's quite enough!" He said. "I meant no offense by that. Now, can you tell me anything else about the company?"

"Well, there was a gray chap…"

"Gandalf."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, come on, it's pretty obvious. I mean, how many people are you ever going to meet that obsessively dedicate themselves to wearing one color?"

"Okay… I'll take your word for it."

"Quite so." Saruman said. "Now, tell me, who else was there?"

"Well, there were two fellows in the back. One was a midget and the other was a man. They were singing profane songs and laughing so loudly that we could've probably heard them all the way from Isengard. The midget was hairy and fat and the man looked like a rather conceited bloke…"

"Tell me more about the… erm… midget… Was he carrying a shiny trinket?"

"No."

"Then what about the last member of the company?"

"It was a girl."

"A WHAT?"

"A girl." The bird repeated. "There was a little girl in a pink dress wearing pink ribbons and makeup."

"Okay… I… um… don't suppose that she had anything… umm… shiny?"

"SHINY! Yes! She did! She wore a necklace! And on it was a shiny ring! Yes! A ring! And the old buzzard in gray was yelling about the 'one ring' and all that junk!"

Finally, he was making progress. "Thank you very much, bird spy." He said. "Now where were they headed?"

"Mordor. The old bloke said it loud enough."

"Very well… You can leave… and please track these nine companions."

"Yes, sir." The birds flew off, leaving Saruman to his own thoughts.

The first thing that came to mind was that he needed to hire better spies. Honestly, birds were so incompetent at their jobs, and they were so easily distracted. Another thing is that they made such a mess…

Then, Saruman thought on what the bird had told him. It was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. Honestly, why would Gandalf, who he had thought to be tactful and skilled in the arts of secrecy, go around shouting that they had the Ring of Power and that they were taking it to Mordor to destroy it? Another thing, why would Elrond choose a girl to be the Ringbearer? And more importantly, why did he let the girl go out wearing such a flamboyant color as pink that would attract the eyes of every enemy spy within seeing distance? That could only mean one thing…

"That group was just a decoy!" Saruman said. "Curse their fiendish minds! They thought they could outsmart Saruman of All Colors with a diversion group while the real group finds another way through! Well, they were wrong!"

Saruman summoned a group of wolves to him.

"Find the real Fellowhship and kill them!" Saruman said.

The wolves growled in acknowledgement and ran off.

* * *

Night had fallen and the Fellowship had decided to stop for the day. 

"All right." Gandalf said. "According to his agreement, Frodo will cook tonight's dinner!"

Frodo shot Boromir and Sam death-glares. He was still wearing the frilly dress and they had mercilessly taunted him for the rest of the day.

"What are we going to have, Frodo?" Gandalf asked.

"For Boromir and Sam, I was thinking about large amounts of laxatives…" Frodo said.

Boromir and Sam exchanged glances. "You know…" Boromir said, "I think I'll be dining with Legolas and Bill tonight."

"Me too." Sam said.

"Bravo!" Legolas said. "We'll make room for you guys!"

"Drat!" Frodo yelled. The whole day while he had been taunted by Boromir and Sam, he had been planning the many nasty ways of getting back at them. One way was poisoning their food, or making it taste very unpleasant. No matter…

"Well, Frodo, we're all hungry." Gandalf said. "So please start making whatever you had in mind. As long as it's comestible and will not kill or harm us in any way."

"I know exactly what I'm going to make." Frodo said.

* * *

"That smells, dare I say it, good." Boromir said through a mouthful of grass. 

"Yes…" Sam said.

Legolas sniffed. "It's an okay smell." He said, "But grass is so much better!" Bill neighed in agreement. Legolas took a large bite of grass.

"Look at it this way, Boromir." Sam said as the man groaned after another bite of grass. "You'll be getting your daily dose of fiber!"

"You're not helping, Sam." Boromir replied.

"Sorry."

* * *

"They're done!" Frodo said, showing the Fellowship members who were daring to take the risk of eating his cooking what he had made. "And in honor of our quest, I made them in a special shape!" 

"What are they?" Gimli asked.

"I call them… onion rings!" Frodo said, taking one of the onions-rings-in-question and taking a large bite out of one.

The Fellowship members crowded around and took onion rings and ate them.

"I dare say, Frodo." Pippin said, taking a large bite out of his onion ring. "These are excellent! From now on, you're Frodo Baggins, Lord of the Onion Rings!"

The rest of the Fellowship dining upon the onion rings cheered in agreement. Sam and Boromir mournfully watched this scene from their vantage point of eating grass with Legolas and Bill.

* * *

That night, most of the members of the Fellowship slept well. Boromir and Sam were put on watch all night, but that was only because they couldn't stop barfing up grass blades long enough to be useful for anything else.

* * *

(1)- 'Hobbit With a Pink Dress On' is based off of that old song called 'Devil With a Blue Dress On'. I thought it would be funny to base the song off of a real one and this is the only one I could find. **

* * *

****A/N (please read)**: So, what did you guys think? Was it good or bad? 

Wow! I got a lot of reviews for the last chapter! I'm so happy! Thanks to all of you who reviewed! It was fun to read what you all had to say!

One more thing! I'm writing a various amount of other humor stories that not a lot of people are reading. If you like this story, I think you'll like these stories:

Stranded (on my pen-name) and the Downside to Being Steward (I co-authored it and it's on Mina-chan AMD's pen-name). Please read and review for them! Please? It would make me very happy!

Okay… I'm done ranting. If you want me to update quicker, please leave lots of reviews!


	6. Aragorn

Disclaimer: Still don't own it!

* * *

Much to the Fellowship's disappointment on the morning of the next day, Frodo was back in his ordinary clothes and was not wearing either makeup or revolting pink ribbons.

However, that did not stop them from spontaneously bursting into snickers every time they even glanced at Frodo, recalling the events that had transpired the day before.

* * *

They took a break from cooking dinner for a while and survived on Merry's apples (for he had collected a lot of them) during their attempt to cross Caradhras. Although at one point Gandalf had to light a fire so that they could melt the apples, for the mountains had frozen the apples so that they could not be eaten without breaking a tooth or two. Unfortunately, several of them learned that the hard way.

After he heated up the apples, Gandalf asked if that counted as his night of cooking since, after all, he was the one who had managed to get the fire going. Everyone gave him a look and shook their heads. Gandalf grumbled about everyone being so picky.

After that incident, they decided to leave Caradhras and began to journey towards the Mines of Moria.

* * *

It was night when they decided to stop. Everyone then promptly put down their heavy burdens and began to discuss the most arduous task of their day.

"Well, first of all," Gandalf said, "Sam, Legolas, Gimli, Merry, and Frodo have already done their duty as chefs. That leaves Aragorn and Boromir on the duty roster!"

Pippin cleared his throat. "Hey! What about me?" He asked. "I want to cook too!"

"Yeah! And you also left out another person who hasn't done their time!" Aragorn pointed out. "Gandalf, keep in mind that we _all_ have to cook. You are not exempt from it."

"Well, Aragorn, since you recognize that we all have to cook, why don't you cook for tonight?" Gandalf retorted.

Aragorn stiffened. "And why me?"

"Because I don't feel like cooking." Gandalf said. "And I am not up to braving the cooking of Pippin or Boromir tonight!"

Boromir gave a satisfied smile and Pippin glowered in resentment.

Aragorn chewed his lip in thought for a moment. Gandalf had valid points about both Boromir and Pippin; although he had seen neither of them cook, he had heard Boromir's tale of his cooking and as for Pippin… he had a feeling they would be short a Fellowship member if Pippin cooked… As for Gandalf, if Aragorn was the one to annoy the wizard, there was always the chance of waking up one morning with an undesired extra appendage, or worse…

Aragorn sighed. "Fine. I'll cook."

"What are we going to be having?" Frodo asked.

Aragorn shrugged. "Let me think…"

Somewhere in the dark, a howl was heard.

* * *

The wolves of Isengard had done as their Master had bidden. They had tracked the _real_ Fellowship and now had them cornered.

This had to be the real Fellowship for there were no immature songs, little girls in flamboyantly colored dresses serving as the Ringbearer, and no incredibly loud and blatant, not to mention senile, old wizards. Nope, compared to the fake group, the real Fellowship was relatively normal.

The wolves growled with pleasure as they surrounded their prey and proceeded to close in on them.

* * *

"How the wind howls!" Aragorn cried.

"You idiot!" Gandalf snapped. "That's not the wind; that's just a bunch of wolves surrounding us preparing to make us _their_ supper!"

"Well," Pippin said, "at least they can _decide_ what they're having, unlike some of us!" He glared at Aragorn.

The Fellowship crowded on the top of the hill where they were resting and prepared for battle.

Gandalf strode a few paces forward, wielding his staff and sword. "Listen, Hound of Saruman!" He yelled. "Gandalf is here. Fly if you value your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout if you come any closer!"

Then, Gandalf heard a particularly nasty growl come from a nearby wolf. He screamed and put himself behind Aragorn and Boromir.

He then told the Hobbits to light a fire and make it very big so that everyone could see what they were doing. As the Hobbits did this, tons of wolves were revealed.

Aragorn gave an evil smile. "Well, now we won't worry about what we're going to have for dinner tonight!"

Boromir groaned. "I could interpret that in two ways. One, you mean that we're going to be killed and sitting in a wolf's stomach and will have no need for food, or, two, you mean that we're going to be eating the wolves we kill. To be quite honest, I don't like either of the choices."

Aragorn smiled. "Well, you could always dine on grass again with Legolas!"

"Perhaps I shall hurl myself into the jaws of a big wolf so that I will not have to bear either adversity." Boromir replied.

Aragorn snickered and then proceeded to kill the wolf leader. "I thought you didn't want to be dinner, either." He remarked to Boromir.

"True," Boromir grunted as he chopped off the head of another wolf, "But I'd rather be eaten than have to eat either of the options!"

"Well," Aragorn forbore on slaying the wolf that he was attacking, "Be my guest; jump into the jaws of this foul beast and let us be rid of you!"

Boromir cringed. "No way!"

Aragorn snickered. "Then I guess you could always go hungry tonight."

"Too true." Boromir replied.

It was at this point that Gandalf thought to use a spell to deep fry all of the wolves so that none remained alive.

* * *

When they were done fighting the wolves of Isengard, Aragorn began walking around, chuckling and muttering to himself.

"For the love of the Shire, Aragorn, just start cooking something before the sun rises!" Pippin exclaimed.

"Patience, Pippin!" Aragorn said as he threw more fuel on the already lit fire. "I was just about to get started cooking dinner!"

Boromir's face turned slightly green after this, for he was the only one of the Fellowship who had heard what Aragorn was actually going to make.

* * *

"That smells good!" Pippin exclaimed after Aragorn had been cooking for a while.

The rest of the Fellowship members, except for Boromir, agreed.

Boromir just picked up a handful of grass and stuffed it into his mouth, silently laughing at how ignorant the others were. Sure, he could have told the others what Aragorn was putting in the stew, but this was so much more fun.

* * *

"It's done!" Aragorn exclaimed. A large pot of stew simmered at his feet.

Everyone crowded around the pot to see the stew. It consisted mainly of meat with a few vegetables thrown in. Upon seeing the meat, Legolas sat beside Boromir and Bill and ate grass with them.

The rest of the Fellowship, including the maker of the meal, ate the stew. Most of them ate in ignorance.

* * *

The next morning, the sun rose to reveal the area surrounding where the Fellowship had fought off the wolves.

The fields were bare. No corpses of the wolves could be found.

"It is as I feared." Gandalf said. "These were no ordinary wolves hunting for food in the wilderness. For, lo, no corpses remain! They must have been possessed by Sauron or Saruman!"

Aragorn looked at the ground and toed some of the ashes from the fire. "Umm… actually, there's a small chance that they might not be…"

"What do you mean, Aragorn?" Gandalf asked.

"Well… you know the meat in our dinner last night?"

"Yes."

"That was some of the wolves we slew last night."

At this point, Boromir went into a laughing fit as all of the other members of the Fellowship who had dined on Aragorn's stew heaved up the contents of their stomachs. Only Pippin and Aragorn did not follow suit.

Pippin smiled. "I knew there was something odd about that meat! Last night, I discovered one of Legolas' arrowheads in a piece of my meat!"

Aragorn shrugged. "Sorry, Pippin. I thought that I had managed to remove all of the arrowheads."

"No such luck." Pippin replied.

After Frodo, Sam, Merry, Gimli, and Gandalf had finished barfing; all of the Fellowship shouldered their burdens and began their long journey toward the Mines of Moria.

* * *

A/N: What did everyone think? Was it good or was it bad?

I'm sorry if I focused more on certain characters in this chapter. It's just that with nine characters, it's so hard to give everyone an equal amount of time.

By the way, I don't know if some of you noticed the familiarity of what some of the characters said, but I used some of the lines from directly out of the book. Of course, though, I added my own touch to them.

Well, anyway, I'd like to thank all of you who reviewed for the previous chapter! Thanks so much!

Please leave lots of reviews!


	7. Boromir

Yay! Chapter 7! I'm so excited! What torture shall the Fellowship have to endure this time? By the way, in case you were wondering, I don't own the Lord of the Rings.

* * *

An air of imminent gloom had overcome the Fellowship as they stopped for the night. This could be for two reasons. The first one is that they were heading towards the dreaded Mines of Moria. The second (and more probable) one was the fact that they would soon have to deal with the cooking of either Boromir or Pippin.

"Well," Gandalf said as the Fellowship made their camp. "We only have one-"

"THREE!" The rest of the Fellowship corrected.

"Sorry. We only have _three_ members who still have yet to cook a meal. They are Boromir, Pippin, and… myself." Gandalf said. "So… who will cook tonight?"

There was silence. None of the three that were left spoke.

"Come on!" Aragorn prodded. "Remember, you're all going to have to do it eventually!"

"If I have to cook tonight, I swear I'll turn all of you into something rather unpleasant!" Gandalf threatened.

"I'll cook!" Pippin volunteered. He gave Sam an odd look.

"Please! For the love of taters, don't make Pippin cook!" Sam pleaded.

"Fine!" Aragorn said. "Neither Gandalf or Pippin will cook tonight. That leaves…"

The entire Fellowship turned to stare at the next victim. Boromir gulped.

"Remember what I said about my cooking…" Boromir warned. "And the army… and the _complaints_…"

"We'll deal with the consequences of our decision, later." Aragorn replied. "Personally, I'd rather have indigestion for a few days than having to consume a Fellowship member or being turned into something unpleasant."

Boromir sighed in defeat. "Okay… I'll cook… Just remember, I warned you!"

* * *

The dinner lay simmering on the fire as Boromir told the Fellowship a particularly entertaining tale about a time when Denethor had bungee-jumped out of the Tower of Ecthelion and how it had caused both him and Faramir to have a panic-attack because they couldn't see the cord attached.

"You know, Boromir, that's really enthralling and all," Sam said, "But I think our dinner's burning."

Boromir got up from where he was sitting and went over to the pot. "Nonsense, Sam." He said, "It's just a simmer!" It was no sooner that he had said this that Boromir opened the pot and a flame rose out of it.

"FIRE!" He screamed and took another pot, scooped out a bunch of dirty lake-water and threw it on the meal to quench the flame. The rest of the Fellowship twitched; there was no doubt in their minds that Boromir was the most incompetent chef in the group, so far.

"Whew!" Boromir said as he extinguished the fire. "That could've been bad. Last time, my cooking set fire to Osgiliath!"

"What have you done, Aragorn?" Merry hissed. "You chose the worst chef in the lot! I don't even think Boromir knows what he's doing!"

Aragorn grimaced. "I fear you're right, Merry."

"Well… umm…" Boromir said as he poked at the contents of the pot. "I… uh… I guess it's done." Boromir ladled a bit of his concoction into nine bowls and gave a little bit to each member.

They all looked at the contents of their bowls and nearly gagged. For one thing, everything smelled horrible. The food, which they all guessed was supposed to be a stew, was thoroughly burnt. A layer of gray grease was on the top of it. The meat inside the stew looked burnt in some places and undercooked in others. Little bits of charred vegetables floated around in it and they all had a feeling that more unpleasant things would rise to the surface if they dared to eat it.

(A/N: Think of Eowyn's stew… only ten times worse…)

Pippin was the only one not looking. As a matter of fact, he was downing the mutant stew, enthusiastically. All Fellowship members, including the cook, watched with horror.

"Well, let's eat to life!" Frodo said and dipped a spoon into the horrid stew. He slowly sipped it and sputtered. The others, except for Boromir, followed in suit. Boromir had silently handed his bowl over to Pippin, who downed its contents with great gusto. It tasted bitter, with a slight salty undertone. Frodo gulped and forced himself to dip his spoon in a second time.

An eye popped up out of the stew and stared at him. Frodo stared back. Then, the eye blinked and Frodo screamed and threw the bowl containing the stew from him.

Everyone stared at Frodo, questioning his odd behavior. "It looked at me." Frodo explained.

Merry then let out a frightened cry and threw his stew bowl, which accidentally splattered all over Boromir.

"Hey! What'd you do that for?" Boromir shouted, brushing the scalding hot stew off of himself.

"It moved." Merry said in a frightened voice, drawing himself into a fetal position, rocking himself back and forth. "Something in the stew moved."

The rest of the Fellowship dumped their stews out on the ground. Pippin let out a cry of dismay.

"If you weren't going to eat it, you could have just given it to me!" Pippin cried out. "The eyeballs taste particularly good and you just have to quickly chomp down on the moving parts!"

Pippin received several odd stares from the Fellowship.

"Like I said before," Pippin explained, "when I'm hungry, I do things!"

"Well, Boromir." Aragorn said. "I do believe you now when you said that you're gastronomically incompetent. I thought you were just lying to get out of cooking a meal. I guess I was wrong about you."

"Yeah," Boromir replied, looking away. "You were completely wrong."

All of the Fellowship's stomachs growled, simultaneously.

"Well, I guess we need to pick a new cook." Aragorn said. "We can't start tomorrow off on empty stomachs."

"Quite right!" Gandalf said. "So… who will cook a new meal for us?"

Everyone stared at their new victim.

* * *

Oooh! It's a cliffhanger! Bwahahahahahahahahaha!

So, anyway, what did you think? Was it good or bad? By the way, I'm sorry if this one was a little disgusting…

Can you guess who's cooking the next meal? Go ahead… guess!

I would now like to thank the eight people who reviewed! Wow! Eight! Thank you, everyone!

Well, I'll stop for now. Please leave lots of reviews!


	8. Pippin

Yay! It's the next chapter! I'm so psyched!

By the way, for those of you who are getting bummed as I get closer to Chapter 9, the story will not end there! No… believe it or not, I'm going to put more onto the story after the last Fellowship member gets his turn to cook! But, I'm not revealing what's going to happen… because that would just ruin the surprise!

Anyways, can anyone guess who does not own Lord of the Rings? I'll give you a hint… it's the person writing this story. Does that help?

* * *

And the next victim was…

"No! Please reconsider!" Sam cried out to the others.

…Pippin.

"Yes!" Pippin whooped and jumped up.

"You can't be serious!" Sam cried out.

The rest of the Fellowship shrugged. "Well, would you rather be turned into something unnatural?" They queried.

"Well, I'd prefer that over being killed and put into a stew!" Sam retorted.

"Relax," Pippin said to Sam, patting him on the back. "I'm not going to cook you. I had… bigger plans in mind." Pippin said, looking over in the direction of Aragorn and Boromir, who were currently tying Bill the pony to a dead tree. Bill was being agitated by a large group of squirrels, who shortly jumped onto Boromir's head and attacked him.

Boromir and Aragorn both dealt with the squirrel-problem and as the squirrels continued to scamper around the tree, they both spotted Pippin's odd gaze. They both jumped in fright.

"I think I'll take a walk." Boromir quickly stated.

"Allow me to join you." Aragorn chimed in.

"Don't forget us!" Gandalf and Legolas said at the same time.

All of the large members of the Fellowship hastily left the campsite to stretch their legs, despite the fact that they had done that for practically the whole day.

Frodo, Merry, Gimli, Sam, Bill, and Pippin were the only ones left in the campsite.

"I think I'd fancy a walk, don't you, cousin?" Merry said to Frodo, glancing nervously at a rather nonchalant Pippin, who was currently heating some water, glancing in their general direction.

"I thought you'd never ask." Frodo replied. "Let's go. Maybe we can catch up to the others." Frodo and Merry ran away from the campsite.

"Wait for me, young Hobbits!" Gimli cried out and ran after them.

Sam glanced nervously at Pippin. He then untied Bill the pony from the dead tree and said, "Come on, Bill. Let's find some grass you can graze on." Sam started to lead Bill away from the camp.

"Wait!" Pippin cried out. "Don't you want to watch me cook? Don't you want to know when dinner's going to be ready?"

"I'll know!" Sam replied. "I'll come when it's ready; don't worry about me!"

With that, Sam and Bill left Pippin in the campsite all alone. Pippin sighed to himself. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

When the group of walkers, which were Aragorn, Boromir, Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Merry, and Frodo, returned, Pippin had a gigantic pot of stew all ready for them.

They all eyed it, nervously, and slowly sat down.

"It's ready, guys." Pippin said. "Would you like some?"

"Uh… what is it?" They asked.

"I call it, 'Stew Surprise'." Pippin replied.

"What's the 'Surprise' part?" Frodo asked, tentatively. For all he knew, this could be another attempt to take his precious ring.

"Oh, don't worry… you'll see…" Pippin said and handed them each a bowlful of soup. He then served himself a generous amount and began to eat it with great gusto.

The Fellowship eyed their stews, nervously.

"I say that someone else does a taste-test." Frodo suggested.

"Okay. Who will it be?" Gandalf said.

"I say it should be Boromir!" Merry said, still feeling angry at the man for the horrible stew that he had served them just a scant hour before. "Let's see how he likes it when he gets something disgusting in the stew!"

"Yeah!" Seconded Aragorn, Frodo, Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf.

Boromir sighed. "Very well." He said. He closed his eyes for a moment and gulped. "I just hope that it's a normal stew… with absolutely nothing disgusting in it."

The Fellowship watched, intently as Boromir gave a battle-cry of, "FOR GONDOR!" and spooned a bit of the stew into his mouth.

"Secrecy!" Gandalf cried out to Boromir.

Boromir just stared at Gandalf and swallowed.

"So…?" The others said.

"This is really good!" Boromir exclaimed, eating more stew.

As Boromir began to stuff his face, Aragorn finally noticed something. "Where's Sam?" He asked.

Pippin looked up from his stew with a mischievous smile. "Let's just say that he had to go somewhere."

Boromir spat out the mouthful of stew that he had just spooned into his mouth. He then looked into the stew. "Do you mean…?" He said, slowly, feeling the urge to vomit and then wash his mouth out in the dirty lake-water.

At that point, they heard a rustling from behind a pair of bushes.

"What's that?" Merry asked.

Suddenly, Sam emerged from behind the bushes. "That's better." He said, zipping up his fly.

Everyone sighed in relief. Boromir now felt no remorse in spooning a large amount of the delicious stew into his mouth, chewing it, and swallowing.

"Hey, has anyone seen Bill?" Sam asked.

"Uh…" Said everyone but Pippin.

Pippin smiled. "Surprise." He said.

Boromir's eyes widened and he spat out the stew.

"YOU _KILLED_ BILL?" Sam exclaimed.

Pippin nodded. "Yeah. I figured that we weren't taking him into the Mines of Moria, so we would be setting him free. And chances are that if we set him free, he'd be killed by wolves. Also, if someone found Bill, they might figure out where we were if they could deduct that we set him free. So, I figured, better to put him out of his misery sooner than later."

"But… but…" Sam sputtered. "He was my friend!" Sam said in a strangled voice. He then turned around and everyone else heard a noise akin to sobs.

"Are you going to be okay, Sam?" Frodo asked.

Sam raised his head and let out a wail that echoed all around them.

Gandalf, ever the sensitive one, then said to Sam, " SAMWISE GAMGEE! STOP THAT INFERNAL RACKET! YOU'LL BLOW OUR COVER! BILL WAS JUST A STUPID BURDEN-BEAST! GET OVER IT!"

Sam gave Gandalf a murderous glance. "I hate you." He said to Gandalf.

"I know." Gandalf said, cheerily.

"If you'll excuse me," Boromir said, "I'm going to go force myself to throw up the remains of our burden-pony." Boromir got up and walked over to the bushes where Sam had emerged.

Sam, oblivious to Boromir or anyone else, continued to wail and lament poor Bill. "Why? Why did he have to go so young?"

"Sam, have you learned a lesson from this?" Legolas asked the Hobbit.

"I cannot; for the grief is too near." Sam replied through his sobs.

"Well, then, I'll just tell you." Legolas said, cheerily. "The morale of this story is to never eat meat and to convert to vegetarianism!"

Sam looked at the elf and broke into renewed sobs. "You're not helping!" He wailed.

Legolas sighed. "I'm sorry. I'll leave you to your mourning of your fallen comrade." Legolas walked away join the rest of the Fellowship in watching Boromir force himself to vomit behind a bush.

Sam continued to wail and cover up the retching noises.

Pippin, meanwhile, was laughing hysterically. This could be in reaction to Sam's grief or Boromir's massive heaving; nobody could really tell. He then let out a shrill whistle and everyone stared at him, including Boromir, who was in mid-vomit.

"What?" Pippin said. "I'm allowed to whistle."

"Does the meaning of 'secrecy' mean anything to you, Pippin? At all?" Gandalf snapped at Pippin.

"I dunno, Gandalf, does it mean anything to you… or Sam… or even Boromir?" Pippin added on as Boromir made a rather loud heaving noise. The other Fellowship members, especially Aragorn, smiled with amusement. Those who had experienced the fright of Boromir's stew felt properly avenged.

"Oh, Bill! Why? Why?" Sam lamented. "I feel as if I can still hear the clip-clop of his hooves!"

There was a clip-clopping sound from behind Sam. Bill now stood, unharmed and very much alive, behind Sam.

Pippin grinned, mischievously. "Surprise." He said.

"What?" Everyone exclaimed, staring at Bill with open mouths. Boromir now felt rather stupid for heaving up what he could now assume was perfectly good stew.

"The real surprise is that it's normal stew!" Pippin said. "Since you all were expecting me to make some type of monstrosity, a normal stew would be a surprise. I just had to make sure that Bill was out of the way for a while. And Sam's trip to the restroom was just too perfect for me to resist!"

"If it's normal… what's the meat?" Aragorn asked.

"I saw some squirrels on the tree you were tying Bill to."

"So you mean you weren't looking at us?" Boromir asked.

"No, of course not! My big plan was to cook that large group of squirrels that attacked you!" Pippin replied. "So… eat up!"

"Faramir would be pleased to know that squirrels actually taste good." Boromir commented as they all began to tensely consume the stew.

"Surprise!" Pippin said and everyone jumped in fright. Aragorn spilled some stew on his leg and let out a loud curse.

"Secrecy…" Gandalf muttered to Aragorn.

Aragorn glared at Gandalf and thought of so many witty retorts, but decided that it would be best for his current physical state if he just remained silent.

"What was that for?" Frodo asked his suspicion renewed.

"I just love to see your reactions." Pippin replied.

Everyone glared at Pippin and decided that, although Pippin was a good cook, they did not want to have to put up with this for every single meal, especially if he decided to cook something truly horrifying, like snails, or a giant squid.

* * *

What did you think? Did you like it? Please let me know!

I would like to thank all of you who reviewed for the previous chapter! Thanks!

Please leave lots of reviews!


	9. Gandalf

Alas! I do not own that Lord of the Rings!

* * *

The Fellowship was very close to the Mines of Moria when they stopped the next day. As they all set down their bags, an air of anticipation filled the air. There was only one person who had yet to cook.

"Well," Gandalf said, "It appears that we have no others who have cooked yet."

"AHEM!" The rest of the Fellowship said.

"We all had to do it, Gandalf!" Boromir snapped.

"Yeah, and so do you!" Frodo said. "Just be thankful you don't have to do it in a dress!"

Everyone snickered at Frodo's comment.

"That was a good one…" Sam said with a snickering fit.

"Come on, Gandalf!" The rest of the Fellowship said. "You have to do it!"

Gandalf sighed in defeat. "Very well… I shall cook dinner tonight. But none of you must watch as I cook! If you do, I swear that I'll turn all of you into something rather unpleasant!"

"See you later, Gandalf!" The rest of the Fellowship said, hastening away.

"You'll know when it's done; don't worry!" Gandalf called out to them and began to retrieve the items necessary to make his dinner.

* * *

"I wonder what Gandalf's making." Pippin said.

"What do you think he's making, Pip?" Merry asked.

"Perhaps he's re-heating leftovers!" Pippin said. "What do you guys think?"

"Perhaps he's making a potion that will incapacitate all of us or turn us into something unnatural as punishment for forcing him to cook." Frodo suggested.

"I don't believe Gandalf would do that." Aragorn said, hopefully. "Perhaps he's making another stew."

"Or maybe he's making salted pork!" Gimli exclaimed.

"Nah, he'd probably make a salad!" Legolas said with a smile.

"No, Legolas, that's you." Aragorn replied.

"Oh… Right!" Legolas said.

"I think he'll boil up some taters and turn a few rocks into some coneys!" Sam said. "And then we'll have a delightful stew!"

"Perhaps he's making a fruit salad." Merry said. "You know, with apples, grapes, and all kinds of other fruits!"

"Perhaps he's making a chicken filet with some steamed vegetables and an apple soufflé to finish it off!" Boromir said with a wistful smile.

"What's a soufflé?" Pippin asked.

"And what's a filet?" Merry asked.

"That's easy!" Sam and Boromir said in unison. "A filet is a boneless piece of meat and a soufflé is a dish that is made from a sauce, egg yolks, beaten egg whites, and a flavoring or purée, like one made of seafood, fruit, or vegetables, and baked until puffed up!"

Everyone stared at Boromir.

"What?" Boromir said.

"Well, we can understand why Sam knows about that stuff," Aragorn said, "but what about you? You're gastronomically inept! You shouldn't know anything about the definitions of cooking if you can't even make a stew!"

"I… uh…" Boromir said, his eyes becoming shifty. "I… um… spent a lot of time around the kitchens in Minas Tirith, okay? I used to watch the cooks make our meals! I picked up some of the terms!"

"And yet none of the skills." Merry said in an aside to Pippin, who broke down into a spasm of snickers.

Suddenly, they all turned around in time to see a firework go off from where their campsite was. It exploded in pretty colors of light and then it formed the following message: _'Dinner's ready!'_

"Couldn't he have picked a more _subtle_ way to tell us?" Aragorn commented.

"Who cares?" Pippin said. "I thought that we had already established that our chances of secrecy had been blown out of the water several times! Besides… dinner's ready!"

The rest of the Fellowship cheered and hastened to the campsite.

* * *

Gandalf was serving out what he had made when he heard a clamor approaching the campsite. The other Fellowship members emerged, whooping and cheering, ready for a wonderful dinner.

Gandalf glared at them and put a finger to his mouth. They all stopped and looked at him, confused.

"Secrecy!" He hissed.

Automatically, everyone's head went up to look in the general direction that the firework had gone off and then looked at Gandalf. They sighed and chose not to make any comment.

"So, what's for dinner, Gandalf?" Pippin asked.

Gandalf smiled and stood aside. He had conjured a large table with all kinds of foods stuffed onto it. Everyone's eyes widened and they charged at the table and began to stuff their faces. Gandalf joined them.

Everything was perfect and delicious. As everyone was eating, Pippin said, "I don't get it, Gandlaf. If you had the power to just summon all of this wonderful food, why didn't you just do so from the beginning?"

"Well, the answer is fairly obvious, Pippin." Gandalf said. "It's… um…"

"Yes?" Pippin prompted, eagerly.

"Huh." Gandalf said. "I guess I _could_ have done that from the beginning. I just never thought of it. That reminds me of something… something important… something to do with giant eagles and the Ring…" Gandalf paused for a moment. "I got nothing!" Everyone gave Gandalf a strange glance. "Don't worry, though, I'll let you know when it comes to me!"

"Right…" They all said.

"Anyway, the best explanation I can come up with was that I was afraid of showing off my super-cool culinary skills!" Gandalf's glance flicked over to Boromir by chance, who began to sputter and choke on a piece of food that he had just started to swallow.

"Boromir, are you okay?" Aragorn asked, hoping that he wasn't.

"C… P… R…!" He managed to gasp out.

Aragorn paused for a moment, trying to work out the meaning of the three letters. Then, it dawned to him. "Oh my gosh! Boromir needs CPR!" Aragorn rushed over to Boromir and began to perform CPR. Boromir coughed up the bit of food that been causing him grief.

"Please tell me you don't need the kiss of life!" Aragorn said to Boromir.

"No, I don't need mouth-to-mouth." Boromir replied. "And even if I did, I'd rather die than receive it from you… or anyone else here!"

"What a relief!" Aragorn said.

A sudden thought dawned upon Boromir. "Hey, Aragorn. I didn't know that you were certified in CPR!"

"Oh, I'm not." Aragorn replied. "The hands of the king are the hands of a healer!"

"Oh, mercy!" Boromir cried out. "You just _had_ to bring that up, didn't you?"

"Don't be ungrateful! I just saved your life!" Aragorn retorted.

"Well don't think that means you'll be in a position to do it again!" Boromir snapped.

"Well, who said I'd save your life again if I had the opportunity to?" Aragorn retorted.

"Settle down, you two!" Legolas interjected before the two could start a food-fight. "And enjoy the wonderful food that Gandalf has provided. And, Boromir, take smaller bites."

Boromir sniffed, indignantly and returned to eating. So did Aragorn.

* * *

After they had all eaten their fill of the delicious meal, Aragorn spoke up. "Well, now that all nine of us have cooked, we should cast votes to see who should cook for the rest of the journey."

"Right. So, how shall we vote?" Gandalf said.

"Let's just go in a round-robin and keep a tally of votes for each person." Aragorn said. "I'll keep tally." He took out a piece of paper and wrote the names of each member of the Fellowship on it with a quill he had on hand.

"Aragorn, why did you bring paper, a pen, and ink, on a perilous journey of secrecy?" Boromir asked. "I thought we were only supposed to bring what we needed. Otherwise, I would have brought my cookboo- I mean," Boromir cleared his throat. "I mean… my very manly book on sword fighting, which had nothing to do with cooking!"

Aragorn just gave Boromir a blank stare for a moment and then said, "Well, I'm documenting the journey! I had to rip out a piece of paper from my journey log!"

Boromir rolled his eyes. "Just hope that no spies discover it and take it."

"I thought we'd previously established that our secrecy had been blown out of the water, especially with Gandalf's display of summoning us to dinner!" Pippin commented.

"Oh… right." Aragorn and Boromir replied.

"Well, who will start?" Aragorn asked.

"I will!" Sam said. "I vote for myself!" Aragorn put a tally under Sam's name.

"I vote for Gandalf!" Frodo said. "And as Ringbearer what I say goes!" Aragorn rolled his eyes and put a tally mark under Gandalf's name.

"Promise…!" Sam muttered and Boromir began to reach for Gandalf's staff.

"Fine!" Frodo said, crossing his arms. "But, in the event of a tie, I still get to be the tie-breaking vote!"

"Whatever." They all said.

"I, too, will vote for Gandalf!" Legolas said with a smile. Another tally mark went under Gandalf's name.

"Gandalf!" Gimli roared. Another tally mark for Gandalf.

"Secrecy, Gimli!" Gandalf hissed. Gimli just rolled his eyes.

"I vote for Gandalf!" Pippin exclaimed.

"Me too!" Merry said.

"I vote for Gandalf!" Boromir said with a cheerful smile.

"I vote for myself!" Gandalf said.

"And I vote for Gandalf as well!" Aragorn said. "And with a score of 8 to 1, Gandalf wins!"

The Fellowship cheered for their new cook. Little did they know that their cook wouldn't be around cooking for long…

* * *

The story, as I said before, does NOT end here! Nope; it'll go on for a few more chapters! Yay!

Anyways, I'd like to thank all of my reviewers… so… Thanks!

Also, I'd like to wish everyone a Happy (belated) Thanksgiving!

Please leave lots of reviews!


	10. Calamari, anyone?

Yay! It's Chapter 10! I'm so psyched!

Anyways, I still do not own the Lord of the Rings.

* * *

"Finally…. We're here!" Gandalf cried out as he suddenly stopped.

"And where exactly is here, Gandalf?" Frodo asked the old wizard.

"The entrance of the Mines of Moria, of course!" Gandalf responded. Then, under his breath so that only he himself could hear, he added, "I think… or hope… or pray…"

"What was that, Gandalf?" The rest of the Fellowship asked.

"Nothing!" Gandalf said and rolled back his sleeves. "Now I just need to find the entrance!" He began to feel along the wall.

Boromir held up a hand. "Wait a moment! Time out! Did you just say, 'Now I just need to find the entrance!'?"

Gandalf looked at Boromir. "I did. Why?"

"Gandalf, why did you lead us here if you didn't know how to get in?" Boromir asked, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. "Why not just set off another one of your bloody fireworks for all of the spies of the enemy to see saying, 'We're here! Come and eat us! We're sitting ducks! Oh, and did we mention that we have the Ring with us so you can complete your world conquest?'" Boromir was fuming. "You are the most bloody incompetent guide on the face of this earth! Honestly, I think Pippin would make a better guide than you, and he hasn't even been here before!"

"Just shut up, Boromir, if you know what's good for you," Gandalf replied. He then passed his hand up the wall in a vertical way. "Oh! Yay! I actually found the entrance!"

Suddenly, a door was lit up in the wall. Everyone's mouths, including Gandalf's, dropped.

"Well… I actually found the doors," Gandalf said, brightly. "What a relief! Now if only I knew the password!"

"You… don't… know… the… bloody… password!" Boromir shrieked in fury. He started to stride towards Gandalf, ready to pummel the wizard to a pulp. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and the four Hobbits had to restrain Boromir, or else he might have attacked Gandalf. Boromir let out an agitated cry and tried to shake off those who restrained him. In the end, though, he was content with sitting on the ground against the stone wall in a fetal position, laughing insanely.

Gandalf put a hand to the door and thought for a moment. "Ah! I know what the password is!" Everyone brightened. Gandalf stood back and cleared his throat. "The password is… _abra kadabra_!" Nothing happened. "Hmm… perhaps it is this… _open sesame_!" Still nothing happened. Everyone lost their excitement.

Boromir continued to rock himself in his fetal position, insanely laughing. "Oh, we're all going to die!" He yelled. "We're going to die sitting here waiting for this oaf to say every word in every language he knows! O cruel fate!"

Gandalf turned to Boromir. "Secrecy!" He hissed.

"Secrecy? Secrecy!" Boromir shrieked and then threw his head back and insanely laughed.

"I do believe that Boromir has lost his mind." Gandalf said. "We must pacify him or we may be discovered!"

Somehow, Boromir found humor in Gandalf's words and laughed harder and louder. "Did I not say that this quest was folly?" He said in a maniacal voice. "Oh, how I hate this place!" Boromir picked up a rock and threw it at Gandalf, who ducked. The rock then hit the lake with a plop and sank down.

"Aragorn! Control him!" Gandalf said. "I must figure out this riddle!" Gandalf stared at the door, muttering words to himself.

Aragorn turned to look at Boromir with an evil grin. To Gimli he said, "Give me your axe."

"Uh… I don't think Gandalf meant you could kill him," Gimli replied.

"Okay… fine! Does anyone have a heavy blunt object?" He asked, turning to the others. He then spotted Gandalf's staff. "Gandalf! Can I borrow your staff for a moment?"

"Mph… sure…" Gandalf muttered.

Aragorn smiled and took Gandalf's staff. He then hit Boromir on the head several times. Boromir's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he fell over and hit the ground, unconscious.

With his task accomplished, Aragorn returned Gandalf's staff and said, "Thank you, _mellon_!"

Suddenly, the doors creaked open.

Gandalf looked up. "Ah… so it was '_sesame seeds_'," He said, "Well, now we should go into the Mines of Moria."

"What about Boromir?" Frodo asked, gesturing to the unconscious man. "We can't just leave him here… can we?" A hopeful note took hold of his voice.

"Unfortunately… Frodo has a valid point," Aragorn said. "If we just leave Boromir there… he'll be a sign that we were here to the enemy. Plus… if he wakes up, he'll report our treachery to Elrond! So… all in favor of throwing Boromir into the lake say aye!"

"Aye!" Said Aragorn, Frodo, and Gandalf.

Frodo then elbowed Sam. "What? Oh… right," Sam said. "Aye."

Suddenly, Boromir stirred and sat up, rubbing his head and groaning. "Oh my head…" He said. "It feels like I just got hit by a ton of bricks!"

"No time for that, Boromir!" Aragorn said. "We must go into the Mines of Moria!"

"Oh… fine!" Boromir replied, standing up. "So long as I don't get hit on the head with anymore blunt objects!"

"Agreed," Aragorn replied, and under his breath, he added, "I'll go with a sharp object next time."

"What was that?" Boromir asked.

"Nothing!" Aragorn replied.

So, with that, the Fellowship began to enter the Mines of Moria. Gandalf was in front and Frodo was in the back. Suddenly, something slithered around Frodo's ankle and started to drag him away.

"Ah! Guys, help!" Frodo cried out.

Nobody made any move.

"Help the Ring! If I die, the enemy may find it and you'd all be doomed!" Frodo then said.

Suddenly, everyone was moving. Pippin was first to see what had Frodo. It was a calamari chef's dream. A giant squid had risen up out of the water.

An evil grin spread across Pippin's face. "Calamari, anyone?" He asked and drew out a giant calamari knife and started to advance on the squid.

"Yay!" They all said.

The giant squid eyed Pippin and his giant calamari knife. It knew that it was in danger. It dropped Frodo and dove back into the water. Everyone then looked disappointed. They wouldn't get to have any calamari.

Frodo was the only one who was not glum. "I'm saved!" He said.

Everyone just stared for a moment and then they all went into the mines. Suddenly, they all heard the crunching of stone behind them. They saw that the doors had caved in and that their only route of escape had been blocked. They then heard squid-like laughter and a splash.

Gandalf then lit his staff. "Follow me." He said.

"What… no dinner?" Pippin asked. "I'm famished!"

Gandalf sighed. "Very well… we will have dinner before we continue." Gandalf summoned a table full of food for everyone to dine on. After they were done, they then began their journey through the mines.

* * *

I hope you all liked this chapter! Tell me what you thought!

I would like to thank fair rider, Mina-chan AMD, Poe's Little Raven, AuroraExecution, Ogreatrandom, BwsAnti-Thesis, ArodieltheElfofRohan, and Nelarun for reviewing for the previous chapter!

Anyway… please leave lots of reviews!


	11. Easy come, easy go

I still don't own the Lord of the Rings or anything on Middle Earth.

* * *

The Fellowship slowly made their way through the Mines of Moria at the pace that a slug could keep up with.

Eventually, they were almost out with no mishaps… well, except for the fact that they had gotten cornered by an army of goblins… oh, and they were also being chased by a Balrog.

They hurried across a short, narrow bridge that would have given any person under normal circumstances (as in not being chased by a terrifying fiery demon) a terrible fit of phobia of heights and that would then instigate a large bout vertigo. However, they were pressed, so fortunately nobody did that.

They were almost out. They were almost free. Then, Gandalf got a brilliant beyond brilliant idea. He walked back to stand right in the middle of the bridge and looked up to face the Balrog. He then puffed out his chest, looked the Balrog square in the eye, and then said, "You shall not pass!"

The rest of the Fellowship turned around and saw what was going on. They gaped for a moment at Gandalf's stupidity and then said, "Gandalf, you idiot! Get back here where it's safe! It's not like the Balrog's going to follow us out. We can't afford to lose our cook!"

But Gandalf did not hear these words and then shouted about how he was superior and how the Balrog would not be able to pass. The Balrog just snorted, since he was so much bigger and therefore stronger by his thinking, than the wizard. He then took a step forward and fell down the cavern as the bridge beneath him broke.

"Gandalf, get back here this instant!" Cried all of the members of the Fellowship.

Gandalf did not hear them, however. He was just staring in fascination at the falling Balrog. He couldn't believe that his brilliant beyond brilliant idea had actually worked. Suddenly, he noticed how high up he was in comparison to the Balrog. It was so high… Suddenly, Gandalf began to feel nervous from how high up he was. This instigated a bout of vertigo. Gandalf was shaking uncontrollably and was rooted to the spot.

"What are you waiting for?" They all asked.

"Ah, right," Gandalf said in a wavering voice, still looking down, and down, and down, and down… He then turned on his heel to walk back across the bridge to the rest of the Fellowship when, due to his vertigo, he lost his balance and started to fall off of the now broken bridge. He, however, managed to grab the edge and began to pull himself up.

As he did this, none of the Fellowship members made any attempt to help him. Oh, they could have, but for some reason, they were rooted to the spot.

Gandalf tried to pull himself up all by himself, but realized that he had no upper-body strength. So, instead, he decided to say, "Dang it! Why didn't I listen to my fitness instructor when he told me I should do more pull-ups? Oh well, Aragorn… you're in charge! Fly, you fools!" He then let go of the bridge and enjoyed the sensation that is free-fall.

All of the Fellowship now reacted by screaming, "DINNER! I mean… CHEF! No, wait, that's not right. Uh… I mean… GANDALF!"

Now, only after Gandalf actually fell off of the bridge, did they try to do something. Frodo, for example, stupidly ran towards the bridge (probably to jump off and join him), screaming, "Gandalf!" Luckily, Boromir caught him and lifted him up, although Frodo was kicking and screaming. Boromir really wished he had a blunt, heavy object right now.

And so, that was the tale of how the Fellowship was, once again, cookless.

* * *

Outside the Mines of Moria, all of the remaining members decided to stop to have a nice, long cry. No, they weren't mourning Gandalf's passing, for they didn't really care about him… Instead, they mourned the passing of their chef and mourned the fact that they would now have to pick a new (and good) one. And, judging from what everyone had cooked, there were no perfect chefs left.

Aragorn sighed. "I guess we're going to have to vote on our new chef, again."

Boromir's eyes widened. "Do we have to cook again?" He asked, praying that the answer was no.

"I think not," Aragorn replied, "Unless you can cook better than you revealed…"

"No!" Boromir said, looking around and sweating. "Of course not! I'm a total incompetent when it comes to the art, I mean, task of cooking."

Aragorn raised an eyebrow, but did not say anything. He then turned to Legolas and said, "Legolas, get them up. We must vote for our new chef."

Legolas gave Aragorn a reluctant stare and started over to the wailing hobbits. Pippin was crying especially hard since he had just lost the only food source (meaning Gandalf's magic… not Gandalf himself) that could satisfy his hunger.

"Oh, give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir snapped to Aragorn.

"No! We have to vote now so that we can get going!" Aragorn replied. "By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with orcs!"

"No, that's not what I was talking about!" Boromir replied. "By all means, get them up, I was just talking about giving them a moment to decide who cooks dinner. We could use the journey to where we're going to next to think about the wisest choice… by the way, where are we going next?"

"To Lothlorien," Aragorn replied.

"L-l-lothlorien?" Boromir stuttered. "Can't we go another way?"

"Why?"

"I heard that one cannot go out of the forest without trying the Lady's cooking… and one cannot try the cooking without leaving unscathed."

"No, not _unscathed_… I think you mean _unchanged_," Aragorn said, remembering the last time he had been in Lothlorien.

"Same difference," Boromir replied. "The point is… I'd rather not have to eat the horrid witchcraft that the Lady makes and calls food."

"Well, Boromir, it's still not too late. Would you care to leave our company? Might I suggest going back the way we came?"

"But the bridge broke… so that's impossible."

"Then feel free to throw yourself off."

"You're just… not-nice."

"You mean 'mean', don't you?"

"That's not the point! The point is… Is there no other way we could go?"

"Oh, if this is about the Lady Galadriel's cooking, just take it like a man. I did and, look, nothing's wrong with me."

Boromir looked at Aragorn. Smelly ranger Aragorn in his rugged clothes and with his rugged appearance. "You're kidding, right?" Boromir asked.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Uh… Aragorn? Boromir?" Said Legolas, "We hate to interrupt your debate, but we're ready to go."

"And since Gandalf put me in charge, I say we're going to Lothlorien," Aragorn said, "Those who do not wish to follow me can feel free to throw themselves off of the bridge that we just left in the mines."

"What about me?" Frodo said. "If I did not want to go with you and threw myself off of the bridge, you'd be in a bit of a pickle, wouldn't you?"

"Naw… we'd just take the ring from you and give it to Pippin," Aragorn replied.

"I knew it!" Frodo yelled, cradling the Ring close to himself. "This _is_ another attempt to steal my precious from me! But you're not getting it! It's mine! My own!" Frodo stalked away, talking to the Ring and stroking it, saying, "It's okay, precious, daddy's got you."

And with that, the Fellowship made their way to the forests of Lothlorien and… the horrors of the cooking of the Lady Galadriel.

* * *

So, what did you think? Did you like it? Or did you not? Please let me know!

And now I would like to thank (takes a deep breath)… Mina-chan AMD, Ogreatrandom, Nelarun, Poe's Little Raven, fair rider, BwsAnti-Thesis, ArodieltheElfofRohan, sugar-plum-sweetie, AuroraExecution, Lalithdil, and absolgirl64 for reviewing for the previous chapter! Thanks to all of you!

Please leave lot's of reviews!


	12. Galadriel

I do not own the Lord of the Rings.

* * *

The Fellowship entered the woods of Lothlorien before nightfall. They trekked through the woods while Gimli told Frodo and Sam the gruesome tales he had heard about the Lady Galadriel's cooking.

"I heard that all those who consume her food fall under her spell and are never seen again," He said, "My theory is that they turn into zombies and are her slaves for the rest of eternity. By day, they bring her chocolates and rub her feet. And at night, they roam these woods and capture unsuspecting intruders!"

Both the Frodo and Sam gasped.

"Well, here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily!" Gimli proclaimed.

"Perhaps it's not something in her cooking that enchants the persons who consume it," Sam suggested, "Perhaps the people go mad as she cooks because she does everything wrong and they can't stand it. And then they return home and they're babbling loonies. I bet that's what happened to Ted Sandyman!"

Frodo sighed. "Sam, I know you don't like him, but Ted's never been out of the Shire. Plus, your theory is totally absurd. You'd have to be an obsessive perfectionist to go mad over incorrect doings!"

"So?" Sam asked.

"Not everybody's like you, Sam," Frodo stated.

"That's true," Sam replied, "Nobody could come even close to my fabulous good looks!" Sam flipped his hair and struck a pose.

"You just go on believing that, Sam…" Frodo muttered and Gimli snickered.

"So, Frodo, what do you think happens to harm people when they come to Lothlorien?" Gimli asked.

"I think that her cooking's so good that nobody can eat it without going mad from pleasure," Frodo said, trying to keep the hopeful note out of his voice.

Merry and Pippin now overheard what Gimli, Frodo, and Sam were talking about and they decided to give their inputs.

"I bet she cooks just like Pippin," Merry said with a snicker, "And she makes people believe that they are eating one of the comrades or their burden-beast. And in addition, she randomly says 'surprise' during the meals. That could drive anybody berserk."

"Oh yeah?" Pippin said, "Well… I bet that she looks as ugly as Merry because then that could spoil the best of any foods!"

"Hey! I'm not ugly!" Merry said.

"And I don't make people go crazy!" Pippin retorted.

And with that, the two 'friends' launched at each other and tumbled on the ground, fighting.

Aragorn, who was up in front with Legolas, now looked back. "Break it up, you two! Don't forget, we're still trying to be secretive."

"I thought that we had established that our secrecy had already been blown," Pippin replied, "because Boromir tooted his horn when we left-"

"Hey! I never tooted my… oh…" Boromir interrupted and then looked at the Horn of Gondor, "Oh, that horn. Sorry. Continue."

"Right…" Pippin said. "So, anyway, what was I saying? Ah, yes, now I remember. Gandalf gave away our position and purpose to enemy spies, and Gandalf set off a firework right before we entered Moria."

"Well, all of that may be true," Aragorn replied, "But let's at least try to maintain the illusion that we're being secretive. So… quit your nonsense back there!"

"Yes, Aragorn," They all replied.

"What were you talking about, anyway?" Boromir asked them.

"We were talking about how we think the Lady's cooking harms people," Gimli replied, "Pippin believes that she's ugly so that she curdles all food, Merry believes that she's just like Pippin, Frodo believes that the food's so good that it causes a person to go crazy, Sam believes that it's the incorrect process of preparing food, and I believe that there's something in it that turns people into zombies."

"No, no! You're all wrong!" Boromir said. "I bet what happens is that her cooking's so horrible that any who look at it spontaneously combust and then their ghosts roam the woods to be her eternal slaves. They're not zombies!"

"Are too!" Gimli said.

"Are not!" Boromir replied.

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

"Are too, are too, are too!"

"Are not, are not, are not!"

Suddenly, Gimli and Boromir both walked into having an arrow pointed at their faces. The whole Company who had been debating about Galadriel's cooking was now surrounded by archers. Aragorn and Legolas both stood next to one of the archers. Aragorn was wearing an extremely satisfied smile.

"You two fight so loudly we could have shot you in the dark, while wearing blindfolds, hopping on one foot, chewing gum, and patting our heads and rubbing our stomachs all at once!" Haldir, the archer whom Aragorn was standing next to, proclaimed.

"That's a bold boast," Pippin said, "Let's see you do it."

Boromir and Gimli both looked at Haldir and at the same time, they let out a scream.

"ZOMBIE!" Yelled Gimli.

"GHOST!" Yelled Boromir.

"SECRECY!" Yelled Aragorn.

Haldir raised his eyebrows and pointed to one of his pointed ears. "Elf," He said.

"Oh," Replied Boromir and Gimli. "ELF!" They both screamed.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "I'm an elf and it never bothered you two before."

"But you're not possessed by the Lady," Gimli replied.

"What's all this about?" Asked Haldir. "I am not possessed by the Lady!"

"See what I mean?" Aragorn whispered in Haldir's ear. "See why they need to be put out of their misery? Do it, Haldir! Kill them! Well… everyone except for Frodo," Aragorn pointed to Frodo, "Unfortunately, he's not expendable."

Haldir sighed. "I know of a more fitting punishment," He whispered in reply. He then turned to the six surrounded company members, "We will take you to the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn. They have been expecting you and desire to speak with you… and the Lady would like to cook dinner for you."

All of the six gave cries of despair.

"I don't wanna be a zombie!" Gimli yelled in anguish.

"I don't wanna go crazy!" Yelled Frodo and Sam.

"I don't wanna die!" Boromir yelled. (Note the irony)

"Good idea, Haldir," Aragorn said.

"Thanks," Haldir replied.

* * *

And so that is how the Fellowship was brought to the fair halls of the Lady Galadriel and the less important Lord Celeborn.

They stood there for a moment, all alone, except for the random guards stationed here and there with very serious, unmoving expressions. And then, two figures clad in light made their way down some steps toward the Fellowship, stepping slowly. Then, one of them fell down the stairs with a crash.

The figure who had not fallen rolled her eyes. "Lord Celeborn, you can be such a klutz sometimes," Said Galadriel, "Now we must re-do our dramatic entrance! Places, everyone! Let's take it from the top!"

Celeborn got up from falling flat on his face and went back up the stairs and out of view of the Fellowship. A few seconds later, Celeborn and Galadriel descended the steps with an air of dignity, elegance, and infallibility. They stopped going down the stairs and then faced their guests.

"Eight there are here, yet nine set out from Rivendell, yet eight there are here," Celeborn said, still rubbing his bruising face from his fall.

"You said, 'Eight there are here' twice," Aragorn commented.

"Oh, great, Celeborn!" Yelled the Lady Galadriel, "You screwed up your lines! Well… we're going to have to do this all over again! Places people! Hope that Celeborn doesn't screw up again!"

A simultaneous groan came from the Fellowship as Galadriel and Celeborn re-ascended the stairs.

"Really, it's okay. You don't have to re-do it," Aragorn said.

"Oh, no!" Said Galadriel. "But we must! Everything must be perfect!"

Then, Galadriel and Celeborn re-ascended the steps and out of sight, again. Then, a few seconds later, they came down the steps without any mishap.

"Eight there are here, yet nine set out from Rivendell," Said Celeborn, "Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire for him to cook in my lady's stead…" Celeborn received a look from Galadriel. "Oh! Wait! That's not what I meant!" Said Celeborn, losing his composure, "What I meant to say was… Where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him."

"He has fallen into shadow," Said Galadriel in a mournful tone of voice, "I told him he should have done more pull-ups! But did he listen? No! He didn't! Well… serves him right!"

Celeborn cleared his throat, "This is very ill news," He said.

"Yes, feel free to rest here for a while in order to heal your grief," Said the Lady, "And in the meantime, I'll cook us some dinner! You all must be famished!"

As soon ask Galadriel said, "I'll cook us some dinner," all of the guards and Celeborn simultaneously flipped gas-masks over their faces without even changing facial expressions.

Frodo, Sam, Merry, Gimli, Pippin, and Boromir all gulped. They now knew that from her appearance, Pippin's idea was out of the question. Still, the others were plausible.

"Please follow me to the dining room," Celeborn said behind his gas-mask, "There, the Lady will show you her 'formidable' cooking skills." He began to walk away, leading them to a large hall adorned with many decorations. There was a table there with nine seats.

"Take a seat," Celeborn said and the Fellowship did so. He then turned on his heel and began to hurriedly exit the hall.

"Wait! Aren't you dining with us?" Asked Sam.

"What? Are you nuts? Of course I'm not!" Celeborn said, "Good luck, though!" With that he left the hall.

Just as Celeborn had left, Galadriel then entered the room, holding all of her cooking supplies. "Be ready for a meal that you'll never forget," She said.

They all gulped.

Galadriel first got out a large cooking pot and lit a fire underneath it. She then tied her long hair back into a bun so she wouldn't get any hair in the food. Next, she put on a mushroom-shaped cooking hat and an apron that said, 'Kiss the Chef… OR ELSE!'

Gimli's mouth dropped. "I think I may go insane… those garbs remind me of the ones that Legolas made me wear," He said, giving Legolas a venomous stare.

"Don't worry, Gimli," said Merry, giving Gimli a pat on the back, "We'll be here for you when you go crazy!"

Gimli groaned. "Why does that only make me worry more?"

"You're just high-strung, Gimli," Pippin said, "What you really need is a vacation."

"Just shut up," Gimli said.

Galadriel was now boiling water in her pot and was cutting up the ingredients, which included a piece of unidentifiable meat, some vegetables, and some type of Elvish bread.

"What are you making, Lady?" Boromir asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"I'm making a stew," Galadriel replied, looking Boromir straight in the eye, "Why? Is there some sort of… problem?"

"Well," Sam said, "If you're making a stew, you should really have some more meat… and you shouldn't have bread to put in it… stews don't contain bread."

Galadriel twitched. "But I always make my stews this way."

"But it's _improper_!" Sam whined.

"Sam, she's an elven witch," Frodo whispered in his companion's ear. "If she wants to make stew with bread and less meat, just let her do it… don't forget Gandalf's motto."

"Never remember what you shouldn't forget?" Sam said.

"No, no! Not that one! Gandlaf's motto was that he was a wizard and, therefore, could turn us into anything he desired at any moment he desired and, therefore, we must not chastise him."

"Oh… right."

"And since Galadriel's a witch, she could probably do the same to you, if you irritated her enough."

"Fine…"

Now, the water was boiling and Galadriel threw in the cut-up meat, vegetables, and bread. She then took out a jar of spices that even Sam's culinary savvy could not identify. She then proceeded to sprinkle in a liberal amount.

"Oh! What is that?" Boromir asked.

"Crushed, dehydrated jalapeno peppers!" Exclaimed the Lady.

"Jalapeno peppers!" Sam exclaimed. "You're putting jalapeno peppers in a stew! That's not proper cooking, that is!"

Galadriel twitched. "But I always make it this way! And Lord Celeborn always loves it! Right, Lord Celeborn?"

"Sure, Darling! Whatever you say!" Celeborn yelled from another room, handing out take-out to other members of Galadriel's hall.

Aragorn dropped his napkin under the table on purpose. "Oh dear," He said, "It seems I have dropped my napkin. Now I must retrieve it." Aragorn then slipped under the table.

"Let me help you with that, Aragorn!" Legolas said and then ducked under the table after him.

After they were both under the table, both Aragorn and Legolas began to crawl away to make their way into the other room where Celeborn was handing out takeout. They crawled on their stomachs and managed to escape the sight of Galadriel, who was now adding red hot chili peppers to the stew while being accosted by Sam.

Soon, they reached Celeborn, who smiled at them and handed them each a box of takeout.

"Good job, guys," He said, "It's not easy escaping the cooking of Galadriel."

"Yeah, well, Sam served us well as a distraction," Said Aragorn as he opened his takeout box. "Hey, cool! There's calamari in here!"

"Yay! Calamari!" Said Legolas with a smile. Remember, elves never yell.

Meanwhile with Galadriel's victims, Sam shrieked almightily as Galadriel added ginger, clover, sugar, cinnamon, and vanilla extract to the stew.

"You're not supposed to put any of that in a stew!" Sam screamed with a twitch.

"Shut up if you want to live!" Galadriel threatened.

Boromir chuckled. "Sam, you remind me of my father so much now."

"Really? How so?"

"You're twitching."

Sam twitched again. "She's destroying the stew!" He whined to Boromir. "Wait a minute… you wouldn't know what I'm talking about… you wouldn't know a pot from a pan in the kitchen."

"Aren't they the same?" Boromir asked.

Sam threw his hands up in the air, dramatically. "I'm surrounded by idiots!" He exclaimed.

Galadriel then said, "Aragorn, may I use your sword?" She looked at the place where Aragorn had been sitting. "Oh… he's still looking for his napkin. Oh well…" Her gaze turned to Boromir. "Boromir, may I borrow your horn?"

Boromir gulped. "What for?"

"I must stir my stew… and I always stir my stew with incredibly important and valuable antiques."

"I have a real stew-spoon right here," Said Sam, offering it to Galadriel, "Wouldn't you rather use this?"

"No! I want to use Boromir's horn!" Galadriel said.

"Fine," Boromir said and handed Galadriel his horn. "Knock yourself out… But it's only fair to warn you that I never swab my horn or empty its spit-valve… that kind of stuff is for germophobes!"

Everyone at the table turned green as Galadriel plunged the Horn of Gondor into the stew and began to stir.

"Must we eat this?" Whined Merry.

"Yes!" Galadriel said.

As Galadriel was stirring the stew, Sam began to hysterically giggle and rock himself back in forth in his chair. "She's doing it wrong… She's doing it wrong…" He repeated to himself.

"It's done!" Galadriel proclaimed and then ladled the stew out into nine bowls. "And you all get the treat of dining with me!" She then put a bowl of the horrendous stew at every place at the table and then sat down at the head of the table. "Well… dig in!" She said as she ate a spoonful of the stew.

The remaining members of the Fellowship followed suit and immediately spat out the stew and reached for their glasses of water and downed all of it to wash the taste out. The stew was spicy. Very spicy. So spicy, in fact, that everyone fancied that they would spontaneously combust if they took another bite.

Another bad thing about the stew was that is also had a slightly sweet taste, which clashed horribly with the spicy taste, giving the consumer the urge to vomit.

Pippin, of course, was not put out by the stews horrible spicy taste. He put his stew bowl to his mouth and downed the contents with great gusto, allowing some of it to dribble down his face and onto his tunic.

The others forced themselves to eat on. Galadriel just watched them, her gaze focusing on one member at a time. They all fancied that the stew was so horrendous that they were hearing voices inside their heads.

When they took a break from eating the stew to sit and chat, they all noticed something.

"Hey, where are Aragorn and Legolas?" Said Gimli. "That's much too long a time to be searching for a dropped napkin!"

The six remaining members of the Fellowship dropped under the table. Nobody was under there but a lone napkin. All then resurfaced.

"They gave us the slip!" Exclaimed Merry, full of anger. "They left us here to be tormented! Why of all the no-good, dirty, rotten…" Merry trailed off, mumbling angrily to himself.

"Come, now!" Said Galadriel. "Finish your stews!"

"Actually… I'm full," said Frodo. "Aren't you full, Merry?"

"Yes, I am," Merry said.

"Yeah, so are we," The rest of the Fellowship said and hastened out of the room to find their missing comrades before Galadriel could protest.

* * *

Well… what did you think? Did you like it? Please tell me.

I would like to thank ArodieltheElfofRohan, Ogreatrandom, Nelarun, Flag, MerryKK, Mina-chan AMD, tpfang56, fair rider, sugar-plum-sweetie, BwsAnti-Thesis, Lalithdil, and Hyper-SpaceGrl for reviewing for the previous chapter. Thanks, you guys!

Please leave lots of reviews!


	13. Do you have something to say, Boromir?

Ack! It's the thirteenth chapter! It's star-crossed! Must… go… find… four-leaf clover and horseshoe! Oh… and in case you're wondering, it is ill-fated that I do not own Lord of the Rings!

* * *

"Aragorn, could you please pass the salt?" Legolas asked as he took a bite out of his calamari.

"Sure," Aragorn replied and handed the salt to Legolas. "What do you need it for?"

"I'm fond of salting my calamari," Legolas replied as he applied a liberal amount of salt to his calamari and then set the salt down on the ground. Unfortunately, though, the salt-shaker was unbalanced, so, it fell over, spilling salt all over the ground.

Legolas gasped. "Oh no! That's bad luck!"

"Don't panic, Legolas!" Aragorn said, "I know the counter-curse!"

"Hurry, Aragorn! What is it?" Legolas asked, feeling a panic take him.

"Okay, take a pinch of the spilt salt in your hand," Aragorn said. As he said so, Legolas took a pinch of salt in his hand. "Then, you throw it over your shoulder." Legolas threw the salt over his shoulder. "And now you're free of the bad luck."

"Whew!" Legolas said, wiping some perspiration off of his forehead. "That was a close one!"

Suddenly, Lord Celeborn came up to them. "You must hide!" He said to them.

"Hide? Why?" They both asked.

"Your companions have finished dining with Galadriel and they noted your absence. Now they're very angry and they're looking for you," Celeborn replied.

"Where should we hide?" Aragorn asked.

Celeborn guided them to a table covered in a floor-length table cloth. He lifted the table cloth. "You can hide here. Just make sure that they don't see you!" Aragorn and Legolas both crawled under the table and Celeborn let the cloth fall. "Good luck!" He said and left.

"Thank you!" Legolas replied.

"No!" Aragorn cried out. "It's bad luck to say 'good luck'! And it's even worse to say 'thank you' when somebody wishes you good luck!"

"Really?" Legolas said. "That's really weird. What are people supposed to say, 'Bad luck!' and 'no thank you'?"

Aragorn shrugged. "Don't ask me! I just know that saying good luck is bad luck and saying thank you is even worse."

Legolas sighed and got out his signature compact-mirror, which was green with the letters 'L.G.' engraved in it along with a green leaf. "Look what all this stress has done to my pores!" He whined.

Aragorn groaned and then reached for the compact mirror. "I'm so sick of you constantly obsessing over yourself! Give me the mirror!"

Legolas stretched so that the mirror was out of Aragorn's reach. "No! It's mine!" He said.

"Give me the bloody mirror!" Aragorn stretched and grabbed the mirror and tugged at it. Legolas tugged back. They were now in a tug-of-war over the compact mirror.

"No!"

"Give it!"

"No!"

"Give it!" Aragorn yelled, giving a violent tug.

Suddenly, the compact mirror slipped out of both of their hands and went flying. Suddenly, it hit the top of the table and shattered, scattering the pieces all over the ground.

"My mirror!" Cried out Legolas. "Look what you've done, Aragorn! You just gave us seven years of bad luck!"

"It wasn't my fault, it was yours! You were the one who had to go fuss over yourself just because one piece of your hair was out of line!"

"It wasn't my hair! It was my pores!"

"Big difference!"

"It is! Clogged pores can result in zits. Unaligned hair can have its growth rate changed."

"That's not true!"

"Is so!"

Aragorn sighed. "That's not the point."

"What is, then?"

"Look, we have seven years of bad luck because we both broke the compact. Luckily enough, I know the counter to this bad luck as well."

"What is it?"

"We must wait seven hours-"

"Seven! We don't have that kind of time!"

"Will you be quiet and let me finish?" Legolas nodded. "Thank you," Aragorn took a deep breath, "The counter to this bad luck is that we must wait seven hours, one for each year of bad luck, and then we pick up the shards of the mirror. Then, we bury them in the moonlight."

"Okay."

"Right."

"Aren't we supposed to be quiet?"

"Yes, we're just lucky that we haven't been discovered," Aragorn replied.

Suddenly, Legolas sneezed.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked.

"I don't know. Something must have triggered my allergies."

"Your allergies?"

"Yes. I'm allergic to anything that's furry. That's why I angst so much about my past. It's hard to be a wood-elf when every cute and fuzzy creature you encounter makes you swell up like a balloon and turn violet."

"That would be interesting to see…" Aragorn said.

Legolas had a fit of sneezing. "It's coming closer," He said.

Aragorn turned his head to the left and saw a black cat walking underneath the table towards them. Legolas' sneezing spasms increased.

Suddenly, the cat crossed both of their paths and Legolas' face immediately puffed up and his whole body turned violet. Aragorn couldn't help but laugh at his friend. Suddenly, as he stared at the receding backside of the cat, he realized something.

"Legolas?"

"Mph?" Legolas said. He couldn't speak very well considering the fact that his lips were the size of grapefruits and his tongue was the size of an orange.

"That was a _black_ cat."

"Mrph?"

"So…" Aragorn replied. "Crossing paths with a black cat is bad luck!"

"Mrph mph! Mph mph!" Legolas cried.

"Yeah, 'Oh no! Bad luck!' is right!" Aragorn replied. "Luckily, I know the counter!"

Legolas made a sound akin to flatulence.

"Yeah, 'Whew!' is right!" Aragorn said. "What you must do is spit after the cat crosses your path." Aragorn hacked up some phlegm and spit to his left. "Like that."

Legolas' swollen features contorted into something displaying a great deal of disgust. Still, he tried to spit, but his poor features were too enlarged to allow him to.

Aragorn sighed. "Well, then, I suppose you're stuck with bad luck."

Suddenly, the table cloth was lifted and in peered six angry faces. Aragorn dropped his calamari and said, "Oh," he gave a nervous laugh, "hey, guys. Um…" he extended the plate filled with calamari. "Calamari?"

"Sure! I'd love some!" Pippin said, taking a piece of calamari and eating it. "You're forgiven, Aragorn!"

"Pippin!" Exclaimed the five other angry Fellowship members.

"By me, at least," Pippin said.

"We, however, are not so forgiving," said Frodo. "Give me the whole plate of calamari and I'll forgive you."

"Deal!" Said Aragorn and handed Frodo the plate of calamari, which Frodo devoured.

"Frodo!" Exclaimed the four remaining angry ones.

Frodo shrugged and continued to shovel calamari in his mouth.

Gimli took a look at Legolas, who had attempted to cover his hideous face with his equally swollen and demented purple hands. "Hah! Get a load of the elf! He's purple!"

The rest of the angry Fellowship member's gaze snapped to Legolas and they all began to laugh.

"That's karma for you!" Gimli said while laughing. "What goes around comes around!"

Legolas turned a deeper shade of purple and he shrank before their gazes.

"How'd he get that way, anyway?" Asked Frodo.

"Apparently he's highly allergic to fuzzy animals and a black cat crossed paths with us," Aragorn replied.

"Can it be reversed?" Merry asked.

"I suppose only time will tell," Aragorn replied.

"Maybe the Lady can use some of her witchcraft to cure him," Sam said.

"Yes, perhaps," Aragorn mused.

Suddenly, Galadriel walked up to them. "Hello! What's the problem?" Everyone gasped in surprise and jumped.

"What?" Galadriel asked.

"Well, Legolas had an allergic reaction to something," Aragorn said.

"Here, Legolas, take this," Galadriel said, handing Legolas one purple pill.

"Mrph mph mph?" Legolas asked.

"What did he say?" Galadriel asked, turning to Aragorn.

"He said, 'What is it?'," Aragorn replied.

"It's an allergy medication. I use it for Celeborn when it's springtime. You should see that elf sneeze. It's like a typhoon. But I digress. This should help you."

Legolas swallowed the pill and then he slowly began to deflate and turn back to his normal color.

"Now," said Galadriel, "I have prepared a place for you all to stay in. You will be escorted there. Feel free to spend as much time as you want here. And, if need be, I can come along with you to cook for you."

"That is a kind offer, lady," Aragorn said, tactfully, "and we will consider it. But right now we are weary and would like to rest."

"Very well," Galadriel replied. "Then you shall be escorted to your resting places."

* * *

"Well… what are we going to do?" Mused Aragorn, pacing the floor of their place assigned to them by Galadriel.

"What do you mean?" Asked the rest of the Fellowship.

"I mean, who's going to be cook? We've had plenty of time to think about it! Now, it's time to pick!" Aragorn said, ripping out a piece of paper from his travel log. "Who wants to vote first?"

"I will!" Sam said, raising his hand. "I vote for myself!"

"I vote for-" Frodo began.

"Wait, stop!" Boromir suddenly shouted, standing up.

"Boromir, what's wrong? Do you wish to place the next vote in Frodo's stead?" Aragorn asked after he put a tally mark on the paper under Sam's name.

Boromir closed his eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath. "I haven't been entirely honest with all of you. And now, that horrendous stew made me realize something… I have a confession to make."

* * *

Oooh! Another cliffhanger! I would like to thank Points, Ogreatrandom, Nelarun, MerryKK, fair rider, Mina-chan AMD, MissMonkey91, ArodieltheElfofRohan, and BwsAnti-Thesis for reviewing for the previous chapter! Thanks!

By the way, a lot of the things in this chapter are repeated jokes. For example: Legolas' compact mirror is from another story I wrote called _Stranded_.

And now, since I'm feeling in the holiday spirit, I would like to sing something for all of you. (ahem)

"_I don't want much for Christmas.  
__There is just one thing I need.  
__I don't care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree,  
__I just want it for my own, more than you could ever know.  
__Make my wish come true!  
__All I want for Christmas is reviews!_

Happy Holidays, everyone! Please leave lots of reviews!


	14. Boromir's Confession

Yay! Look at all of the reviews! Thanks to all of you who reviewed! And… thanks to all of you who attempted to review but couldn't due to a technological glitch so PMed me instead to tell me how much they liked it (that means you, Glorfindel the Younger :) )!

Well… now I will say what always needs to be said at the beginning of a fanfiction chapter… I do not own the Lord of the Rings.

* * *

"…I have a confession to make," Boromir said.

"Yes, what is it?" Asked all of the Fellowship members.

"I can really cook," Boromir continued.

A simultaneous gasp went up from the other members of the Fellowship. "You can?" They all asked, eyes wide with astonishment.

"Yes… you see, when I was a child in Minas Tirith, my father wanted my brother and me to have separate hobbies. So… he enlisted us in classes teaching a certain art. I got assigned to a cooking class. I guess Faramir had it worse, though. He was in a dance class. Poor fellow… he used to get teased and beat up a lot by the other children for that. For some reason, all of that stopped when I convinced Father to switch us both into a kickboxing class…" Boromir shrugged. "The point is… I'm a terrific chef!"

"And why should we believe you?" asked Aragorn.

"Yeah, why?" prompted all of the Fellowship members.

A flash of determination spread across Boromir's features. "I'll prove it to you… who's hungry?"

Everyone else reluctantly raised their hands. Although Galadriel's abominable stew had made them wish never to eat again, it was quite to their astonishment that their stomachs craved food.

Boromir smiled and brought several items out of his pack. They were a frying pan, a chef's apron, a spatula, a bowl, and a chef's hat. He put on the apron, which said, 'Give the Ring to the Gondorian Chef'. Frodo gulped and edged away, not liking the feeling he was getting from that apron.

Gimli twitched. "What, does everyone have one of those things?" He asked, gesturing to the apron and mushroom-shaped hat.

Boromir rolled his eyes and then donned the large, mushroom-shaped chef's hat and proceeded to prepare d a fire.

He then got out some eggs, cheese, and various vegetables and cut them up. Then, he set the pan over the flame and waited for it to heat up. While he waited, he picked up the eggs and cracked them, pouring their contents into the bowl. He then got out a wire whisk and expertly beat the eggs to a pulp. After the eggs looked to be thoroughly mixed by his standards, Boromir then threw in the various cut up vegetables and cheese. After that, he mixed these ingredients so that they were evenly dispersed throughout the egg.

He then tested to see if the pan was warm enough by throwing a droplet of water onto it. The droplet made a hissing sound and evaporated immediately. Boromir then deemed it satisfactory and poured the mixture onto it. As the eggs, vegetables, and cheese went onto the pan, they made a hissing sound and steam began to rise. Boromir then waited and turned to them. "Do you believe me now?" He asked as the divine aroma of the food wafted over to the other members of the Fellowship, who all groaned in longing.

"I don't get it, Boromir," said Pippin.

Boromir raised an eyebrow. "You don't get what, Pippin?"

"Why did you pretend that you couldn't cook before? Why didn't you just show us what you could really do?" Pippin asked.

"Well, Pippin, it's for the same reason that I pretend to be stupid," Boromir replied.

"What?" Asked the Fellowship.

"There's no way he's telling the truth! He's an actor; a spy from the Enemy!" Pippin shouted. "He's not the real Boromir! Get him!" Pippin began to lunge at Boromir.

"No, no!" Boromir cried out. "Stop! I'm as much Boromir as you are a member of the species of Hobbitus Parvus-Sapien."

"What's that?" Pippin asked.

"It's the fancy scientific name for your race," Boromir replied, "Just like Aragorn and I are Homo Sapiens, Gimli is a Dwarfus Parvus-Sapien, and Legolas is a Pulcher Sapien." Boromir sighed. "But that's not the point. The point is that I am the real Boromir."

"Prove it," Pippin said, crossing his arms.

"Okay… um… My brother's name is Faramir. My father is the Steward of Gondor and his name is Denethor. I am his favorite son. Um… My middle name is Finduilas…"

"Really? Keep going!" Pippin said, writing all of this down as dirt he could use on Boromir later on.

"Uh… my little brother is deathly afraid of squirrels…"

"SQUIRRELS!" Came a now less-distant cry.

"When I was two I wrestled a squirrel… the squirrel was winning until some guy named Thorongil rescued me by beating the squirrel off with Father's toupee. When I was five I ate some Play-Dough because I thought it was taffy… Uh… when I was ten I broke a priceless bust of Isildur and blamed it on Faramir. From that point on, I was the favorite… Oh, and I'm absolutely jealous of Aragorn because he's going to be king when I should be."

"Yup, that's him," Aragorn said.

"How do you know?" Asked Pippin.

"If I told you I'd have to kill you," Aragorn replied.

"Really?"

"No, I'm only kidding. I'll tell you. I know because… wait… can you keep a secret?"

"Yes!" Replied the rest of the Fellowship.

"Well," Aragorn said, "The first reason I know was because I was the one known as Thorongil… and I did save young Boromir's life from a squirrel by using his father's toupee. The second reason is that only the real Boromir would be jealous of someone who has more power than him."

"Right…" said the rest of the Fellowship, except for Boromir. "Works for us!"

"I knew it was you, Boromir!" Said Pippin

"The only thing I don't understand is why you were pretending to be gastronomically inept," Aragorn commented.

"Hold on!" Boromir said. "I'd answer that question, but I need to tend to my omelet otherwise it will be burned." Boromir picked up the spatula and partially flipped over the omelet so that he could see how well-cooked the side facing the pan was. It seemed to pass his inspection and he flipped it over.

"Can you answer it now?" Aragorn asked impatiently.

"Wait… my full focus is required otherwise the omelet will not be perfect," Boromir replied, his eyes intently focusing on the omelet.

Everyone else sighed and watched Boromir as he watched the omelet. Every once in a while, Boromir would peer under the side that was now being cooked to see how much progress was being made. They sighed in boredom. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, Boromir said, "It's done!" He used the spatula to transfer the omelet to the plate and then cut it up with the spatula. Then, he put the pieces of the omelet onto nine separate plates and handed them to each member of the Fellowship. They all began to eat at once.

"This is amazing!" Pippin exclaimed and then resumed downing his omelet with great gusto.

"Terrific!" said Legolas with a smile. Please recall that elves never raise their voices. It ruins the mysterious aura.

"This is the best!" Frodo exclaimed.

"I have to admit…" Sam said grudgingly. "I've been outdone. You win, Boromir."

"Two thumbs up!" Exclaimed Merry.

"Astounding!" Bellowed Gimli.

"Secrecy!" Aragorn hissed.

Pippin stopped eating and opened his mouth to speak, but Aragorn cut him off. "Let's try to maintain the illusion of secrecy." Pippin closed his mouth and then continued to eat his omelet.

Once they had all finished their omelets, Aragorn turned to Boromir and said, "Now, before we begin the voting I want to know something… Boromir, why did you keep your culinary skills a secret?"

Boromir took in a deep breath. "Well, I found it quite embarrassing to tell you the truth."

"Why?" Asked Aragorn.

"Well, for several reasons," Boromir explained. "The first one is that I felt it ruined my image of being a rough and tough warrior. The second is because I thought it compromised my masculinity. I mean, in this day and age you never see a man cooking, let along the Captain-General of Gondor's army or the Steward's heir. The third reason is because…" Boromir's shoulders slumped. "… I thought you'd laugh at me."

At this, the rest of the Fellowship laughed.

"Hey, stop it!" Boromir snapped, blushing. "Stop it or I swear I won't cook any more good meals for any of you!"

That shut them up.

"Well," Aragorn said, "I believe I speak for all of us when I say that Boromir should be our now cook!"

"Yes!" Everyone replied.

"Well, then, congratulations, Boromir!" Aragorn exclaimed.

Still, they did not figure out that the position of cook seemed to be star-crossed. Boromir the Cook would not be with them much longer.

* * *

A/N: To understand the joke of Boromir naming each of the taxonomy names for the different races (Hobbitus Parvus-Sapien, etc.), it would be helpful to know the meaning of the following words in Latin (since taxonomy really is done with Latin words):

Parvus little / tiny  
Pulcher beautieful / handsome / good-looking

Hobbitus and Dwarfus are just little things I made up because I don't think there is a Latin word for Hobbit or Dwarf.

* * *

I think I'll end this chapter here. Now, I'd like to thank Mina-chan AMD, Flag, fair rider, tpfang56, MerryKK, mewgirlfreak, Ogreatrandom, ArodieltheElfofRohan, Elvin BlueEyes, Hyper-SpaceGrl, Nelarun, and July 47th for reviewing for the previous chapter!

Please leave lots of reviews!


	15. Only in Lothlorien

Yay! It's chapter 15! Sorry I haven't updated in a long time, everyone. It wasn't my intention to leave you all hanging for so long. But now I'm back and that's all that matters!

* * *

They passed several days in Lothlorien, mostly trying to avoid the Lady and her cooking. Frodo had one particularly nasty experience where she showed him the water source for all of her delectable stews.

* * *

"Will you look into the mirror of Galadriel?" Galadriel asked Frodo.

"What will I see?" Frodo asked.

Galaddriel shrugged. "Even the wisest cannot tell. Some see stews that were, stews that are, and stews… that have not yet come to pass," She said as she poured some water into the basin.

"Okay, now that's just gross," Frodo commented.

"What?" Galadriel asked, looking up from her trance as she watched the water trickle into the basin with a slight fascination. "What's gross?"

"'Some stews that have not yet come to pass.' I mean, come on! That's disgusting!" Frodo exclaimed.

"No! Not like that, you stupid Hobbit!" Galadriel snapped. "I was talking about the making of the stew that has not yet passed! I wasn't saying that it had not yet passed through a person's digestive tract! That's just stupid!"

Frodo sighed. "Very well, since you seem to wish me to do it, I shall look into your mirror," Frodo said and stood on a well-placed foot stool so that he could look into the water. He only saw his reflection.

"What do you see?" Galadriel asked.

"Well… I see myself. Does that mean that I'm going to be made into a stew?" Frodo asked.

"No… just keep looking… and don't touch the water!"

"Why?"

"Why, you ask. Well, I'll tell you why. It's because the water is highly acidic and toxic. If you touch it, you will immediately disintegrate… that's how strong the pH is."

"What's the pH of the water?" Frodo asked.

"Negative one thousand," Galadriel stated.

"Does the pH scale even go that low?" Frodo asked.

Galadriel shrugged. "We just made up the number. Every time we went to test its pH with one of those test strips, it disintegrates."

"And you say that you cook with this water?" Frodo asked, feeling a bout of nausea run through his stomach.

"Well, before I use the water to cook, I put a highly strong base in it to cause a neutralization reaction to occur. The products of this reaction are water and a salt."

"You know, I thought that the stew tasted kind of salty."

"Yes, well, that's the way things go."

"Don't you have any alternate water sources?"

"Yes, but they would ruin the recipe."

Frodo sighed. "Can I just look into the mirror, now?"

"Sure."

Frodo looked deep into the mirror long and hard. He put a hand to his round face and said, "Getting a bit round, old man!"

"Oh, sorry!" Galadriel said. "The mirror of Galadriel tends to add on a few pounds. Don't worry about it. You're thinner than a rail! As a matter of fact…"

"Hold on!" Frodo exclaimed. "I think I see something!"

Frodo first saw Sam's delectable stew and all of its loveliness. He sighed and his mouth watered at the thought of the taste. Then, the image changed and he saw Aragorn's wolf stew. Frodo winced and felt some bile rise up in his throat at the memory of that stew. As he stared down into the mirror, Frodo wondered what would happen if he threw up in it. He sighed in relief as he saw the image begin to change. Then, one atrocious meal replaced another as Frodo saw Boromir's horribly cooked stew with the eyeball staring right at him. Frodo fancied that it was talking when it said, _'I see you!'_ Frodo screamed and for a second he thought he was looking at Sauron instead of the stew. But then, the image faded and yet another replaced it. This time, he found himself facing down to look at Pippin's stew. Well… at least this one was normal.

"So those are the stews that were…" Frodo murmured to himself.

"Keep looking," Galadriel said, sternly.

Suddenly, the image changed and Frodo found himself looking at a green field with butterflies and flowers and cute little wide-eyed bunny rabbits.

"What does this have to do with food?" Frodo thought aloud.

"You'll see," Galadriel replied.

Suddenly, a pack of wolves approached the bunnies and jumped. Right before the wolves could reach the bunnies, the image changed to one of a white city. In the middle of that city, there was a fast-food joint. It looked like a palace. The sign over it said "Burger King" in big, red letters. Below the sign, there was a mascot, who was supposed to be a king. Oddly enough, that king looked like Aragorn. Before Frodo could say anything, though, the image changed. He saw Pippin sitting over a stew-pot, stirring it with a mad glint in his eye. To his right, Frodo could see Boromir's shield and his horn broken in two. The image zoomed in on the stew. In the middle of it was a gold ring, much like his own. Suddenly, the image changed and he was now looking at a great flaming eye. "I see you!" It sang in a sing-song voice and began to pull Frodo towards the water. Frodo screamed and dramatically fell away from the mirror, even though he was in no real danger except from the highly acidic water.

Galadriel looked Frodo in the eye. "I know what you have seen," she said, "For I have seen the same things myself… It is what will come to pass… if you should fail." She paused for a moment and then in an ominous voice, she whispered, "He will try to take the Ring from you. You know of whom I speak."

"Who?" Frodo asked. "If you mean Sauron, of course he'll try to take the Ring from me! It was his for crying out loud!"

"No, no! Not Sauron, you simpleton!" Galadriel cried out. "I mean one of your companions will try to take the Ring from you! Guess who? Since you seem to be a bit challenged, I'll give you a hint: you saw him in the mirror."

"Pippin's going to try to take the ring from me? Gee, you think you know a guy…" Frodo said.

Galadriel smacked her forehead. "No, no, no! Here's another hint: he is one of the Men with you on this journey."

"Aragorn?" Frodo exclaimed. "Aragorn's going to try to take the ring from me?"

Galadriel briefly considered casting a spell on Frodo to make him spontaneously combust, but she realized that would spell doom for the rest of Middle Earth. She let out a frustrated scream and yelled, "What, do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Yes," Frodo replied.

"BOROMIR'S GOING TO TRY TO TAKE THE RING FROM YOU!" Galadriel shrieked. "Honestly, you're so stupid! I don't think that Middle Earth feels safe having their fate bestowed in the hands of a witless Halfling!"

"We're talking about me, again, aren't we?" Frodo asked. Galadriel just gave him a stare. "Well, if you think I'm not qualified, would you like to do it?" Frodo extended the ring out toward Galadriel.

"What, are you stupid?" Galadriel exclaimed.

"Umm… maybe. Why?"

"You don't just offer the ring to random strangers!" Galadriel exclaimed. "They could be spies, plus, only you can bear this burden! Although…" Galadriel eyed the ring. "It would probably be safer with me than with you. I'm smarter… and better-looking. Plus, it would make cooking stews a lot easier. Yes, in place of a Dark Lord you shall have a Chef!" Suddenly, Galadriel looked big and scary, yet still very fair. Is that an oxymoron? "Making and serving out stews for the whole world! All shall love them or despair!"

Frodo screamed and ran away.

Galadriel just stood there and blinked.

* * *

Meanwhile, deep in the woods of Lothlorien, Legolas and Gimli were going on one of their frequent walks. As usual, they were having an argument about which food was better: salted pork or salads. As they argued and walked, they were each consuming their coveted foods.

"I'm telling you for the last time," Legolas told the stubborn dwarf, "Salads are the best foods. They're high in fiber and low in fat." Legolas took a bite out of his salad.

"Yeah, but they taste horrible!" Gimli retorted. "Salted pork may be unhealthy enough to clog your arteries in seconds and take several years off of your life-span, not that you elves would care about that anyway seeing that you're all immortal, but it tastes great!" Gimli ate a piece of his beloved diced pork.

Legolas sighed. "What's the point of eating good food if it's just going to kill you?"

"Well, you only live once…" Gimli began.

"… so why live long." Legolas finished.

"Hey! No! That's not how it-" Gimli began. However, since he was glaring at Legolas, he was not watching where he was walking. His foot caught on a large tree root and he tripped with a loud bellow. The salted pork flew out of his hand and into the air. Legolas turned around to see what had happened to Gimli. The salted pork flew right into Legolas' salad bowl and Gimli and Legolas both let out cries of anguish.

"Hey!" Legolas shouted. "You got salted pork in my salad!"

"Oh, yeah?" Gimli growled as he got up from the ground, brushing the dirt off of him. "Well, you got salad in my salted pork! And you broke the rule that elves are never supposed to shout, exclaim, or yell!"

Legolas pouted for a moment and felt his free hand drift back toward his bow and arrows, but he steadied it and picked up the fork in his salad bowl. He looked at his salad mournfully and tried to eat it without having any of the pieces of salted pork on it. There was no possible way to do so, so Legolas forced the fork into his mouth and prayed to Eru that the pork would not immediately clog his arteries and kill him. He chewed for a moment and then his face brightened up. "This is delicious!" He exclaimed.

"Remember the rules, Legolas…" Gimli said.

"Hang the rules!" Legolas yelled. "It's more of an image thing anyway than actual rules! What are the other elves going to do, arrest me when I get back home?"

* * *

Tharanduil was sitting in his throne room in Mirkwood, attending to business. Suddenly, his elf-ears picked out the sound of his son, Legolas, yelling. But elves weren't supposed to shout, yell, scream, or make any kind of exclamation. He growled and turned to his guards and said, "When Legolas returns home, arrest him and have him executed."

"Why, sir?" One of the guards asked.

Tharanduil's expression grew grim. "He broke the rules," he said.

The guard gasped. "How dare he?" He exclaimed and then gasped, realizing that he had just broken the rules as well. As soon as he did so, the other guards dragged him away to the scary place where bad people go.

* * *

Gimli blinked and shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not an elf."

Legolas tossed his hair. "Who cares? You have to taste this salad!"

Gimli looked reluctant. "Well, it does have my salted pork in it…" He said and took a taste of the salad. He let out a bellow. "Legolas, my friend, we're culinary geniuses!"

And with that, Legolas and Gimli merrily skipped down the path they were taking with their elbows linked as they talked about their plans of opening a food-joint once the quest was finished. In an instant, Legolas and Gimli had gone from enemies to lifelong friends.

* * *

It was night in Lothlorien. The moon was full and the elves were singing yet another annoying lament for Gandalf. Gimli was sound asleep, mixing his snores in with the music. Legolas was moping over Gandalf's death, pretending that he actually cared. The Hobbits were also mourning Gandalf and Sam was trying to come up with a verse to add to the song. Aragorn was helping him.

Boromir lay on his designated area of the ground to sleep, wide awake. He couldn't sleep. The annoying lament just kept on playing over and over in his head. To make things worse, Gimli's snoring almost drowned out the elves' singing. He sighed in frustration, knowing that he was never going to fall asleep at this rate, so he got up and decided to polish his horn… and to try to get the remnants of Galadriel's stew out of it.

Aragorn spotted Boromir sitting on a distant tree root and took it upon himself to see what was wrong.

"You know," Aragorn said, "The elves of Lothlorien have a great border control. Nobody gets in. So, you don't have to worry about Orcs coming in when you're asleep and killing you while you're asleep. So, rest."

Boromir stopped polishing his horn and turned around to face Aragorn with raised eyebrows. "Oh, I don't think I'll be going to sleep tonight," He replied.

"Why not?" Aragorn inquired.

Boromir rolled his eyes. "Take a wild guess, Sherlock."

Aragorn looked at Pippin. "I'll tie him up if you want."

"No, it's not Pippin," Boromir replied. "Gimli snores loud enough to wake the dead. And that whiny song's getting on my nerves."

"You mean the lament?" Aragorn said. "Oh, if only you knew what they were actually saying."

"And you do?"

"Of course I do! I was raised in Rivendell!"

"Show-off," Boromir grumbled.

"Yeah, they're talking about all of his great deeds, his wisdom, his modesty, and his intelligence," Aragorn said. At this, Boromir snorted.

"Intelligent my right foot!" Boromir exclaimed. "The only thing he was good for was his cooking!"

"Ah, well, we should respect the dead."

"Too true."

"So, if I woke Gimli up would you be able to sleep?"

"Probably not."

"Why?"

"Well, I've got a lot on my mind."

"Like what?"

"It's just something that happened during our first meal in Lothlorien. As I was eating, I thought I heard a voice inside my head…"

"Have you considered hiring a head-shrink?"

"Well, Aragorn, my father would get priority with the shrink. He has more issues than I do. His life is just one big mess… His father favored another as a son over him," at this, Aragorn ducked his head, "his wife died about twelve years after he got married, and he's the Steward of Gondor. All kinds of crazy things happen to him because of that. But, I digress. You didn't let me finish telling my story!"

"Continue, then," Aragorn said.

"Well, anyway, I thought I heard a voice inside my head. First it told me that I should not hide my talents and abilities from the Fellowship."

"So that's why you confessed!" Aragorn exclaimed.

"Yes, that's why I confessed. Now, stop interrupting me!"

"Sorry. Continue."

"Thank you. Second, it said 'Even now, there is still hope.' But, I cannot see it. My father is an honorable… no, wait, that's a lie. My father is an insane psychopath who considers burning random objects a recreational pastime. There is no hope for him, especially since he looks to me to make things right. I always advise him to go see a shrink but every time he does, the shrink runs out of the room crying, babbling incoherently, and reduced to a horrid state." Boromir shuddered. "All those poor shrinks… their lives will never be the same again."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows. "And that's why you can't sleep?"

"Yup."

"Well, that's lame," Aragorn replied, got up, and walked away.

"You know, to be a king you should work on being a little more sensitive to other people's predicaments!" Boromir called after Aragorn. Aragorn just rolled his eyes.

Aragorn walked over to the Hobbits.

"What was that all about?" Sam asked, gesturing over to Boromir, who had resumed cleaning out his horn.

Aragorn rolled his eyes and in a baby-voice said, "Poor wittle Bowri can't sweep. He wants his bwankie and a nightwight."

All of the Hobbits laughed.

* * *

The first bit was from one of my ideas for writing a one-shot where Frodo looks into the mirror of Galadriel. After I read the part in the book where Galadriel told Frodo not to touch the water, I wondered what was so terrible about that water that it could not be touched. I decided not to turn the idea into a story, so I put it here.

The next chapter will finish up with Lothlorien and then I'm going to do Amon Hen. I'm sure that the Fellowship is dreading what's going to happen next. Again, I'm sorry for the delay in updating. I promise that I'll be updating more frequently in a bit. Anyway, I'd like to thank Mina-chan AMD, Points, MerryKK, GreenWood Elf, fair rider, tpfang56, Ogreatrandom, ArodieltheElfofRohan, Lalithdil, bohemianblackbirdmuse, Elvin BlueEyes, UBambassador2006, and Nelarun for reviewing for the previous chapter! Please leave lots of reviews!


	16. A Question of Borrowing

All standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

On the eve of their departure, Galadriel and Celeborn summoned all of the Fellowship to their chambers to talk with them.

Before Galadriel and Celeborn spoke, Galadriel leaned over to Celeborn's ear and hissed, "You'd better not screw this up, Celeborn." Celeborn gulped and then faced the Fellowship.

"Well, um…" He said, his eyes shifting around the room as he sweated profusely. "Now is the time where those of you who are smart…" He received a stern glance from Galadriel. He coughed and said. "I'm sorry. What I meant to say was that those of you who are brave must harden your hearts and force yourself to leave this, um, fair land. Those of you who are too scared to leave and get impaled by three arrows," he cast a look at Boromir, who blinked cluelessly, "are welcome to stay behind in Lothlorien for as long as you will or until Mordor covers Middle Earth in shadow."

"Way to be upbeat, Celeborn," Galadriel muttered, sarcastically and then turned to face the Fellowship with a perky smile. "And those of you who do not wish to continue may stay behind and eat my stew to their hearts content for every day that they stay!"

"And on that note," Celeborn said, "Does anybody wish to stay behind and go no further?"

There was silence. Nobody even wanted to think about staying behind to the torment of the Lady's cooking. They had already suffered it once, and had no intention of doing so again.

"Really?" Galadriel said. "_Nobody_ wants to stay? You're all resolved to go on ahead?"

Boromir snorted. "As if I'd want to stay here! I just want to go home where I belong! I'm sick of all of this travel! I'm anxious to make sure that my father and brother haven't killed each other yet!"

Celeborn blinked. "Funny that you meantion death…" He cleared his throat again as Galadriel gave him a quelling look. "Uh… Yeah, right… but that only applies to you… unless the company is coming to Gondor with you…?"

Aragorn shrugged. "As new leader, I'm going for the more disorganized approach. We're not sure where we're going until the last minute!"

"Well, that's your decision," Galadriel commented. "But don't forget that if you all are going to Gondor, you'll need to cross the Great River. And unless you and your baggage can breathe underwater and are waterproof, the only efficient way to cross the Great River is with boats. So, since Celeborn and I are benevolent and caring people…" one of the grim-faced guards smiled and disguised his laugh as a cough. "… we will give you boats."

Aragorn let out a cheer and then dropped to his knees, kissing the feet of both Galadriel and Celeborn several times while thanking them profusely.

Celeborn grimaced with slight disgust and then said, "They'll be ready for you tomorrow. We will also be so kind as to send people down to help you all get ready for your journey."

Galdadriel smiled, "Now, get out of here and go to bed. Oh, and do not let your dreams be troubled of what life will be like without us here to hold your hands… you'll manage… barely."

And on that note, the Fellowship returned to their temporary quarters in Lothlorien.

* * *

The next day was finally it. After several long, tedious days in Lothlorien, the Fellowship was going to depart.

In the morning, they split up the tasks for their departure. Several set forth on the arduous task of packing up the boats while the others decided to pick several of the supplies that they wished to bring along from the Elvish assistants.

"You know, to be quite honest, Aragorn, I don't think we should have tarried here as long as we did," Boromir commented to Aragorn as they loaded up the boats that the Lady had provided out of the sheer generosity of her heart. Seriously.

Aragorn sighed and threw a box labeled 'Fragile, DO NOT THROW!!!' into one of the boats, making the sound of something very valuable breaking asunder. "And why are you telling this to me?"

"Well, you're the self-proclaimed leader of this journey ever since Gandalf fell," Boromir retorted as he dragged a large potato sack and put it in the boat next to the box containing the fragile items.

"So, you admit it, then," Aragorn said, taking another large box out of the pile of luggage to be loaded into the boats.

Boromir sighed and looked at the large pile. "I thought we had a lot less stuff when we came into Lothlorien," He commented, changing the subject.

Aragorn returned to the pile and looked at it as well. "Hmm… for the first time on this journey, you're right, Boromir!" Aragorn frowned. "And I swear that as we've been emptying the pile, it just keeps on growing."

"You know, I think you're right."

"Of course I'm right… when am I not?" Aragorn said. Boromir opened his mouth. "That was a rhetorical question," Aragorn said and Boromir glared and shut his mouth.

"So… why is our pile getting bigger instead of the converse, Mr. I'm-always-right?" Boromir asked.

Suddenly, Gimli walked by, carrying what appeared to be a large wardrobe. "Hey, you guys," he said, gently placing the large wardrobe on the pile.

Aragorn frowned. "Is that essential to this quest, Gimli?"

"Oh, yes! Absolutely!" The dwarf replied.

Boromir raised an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, is in that, um, armoire?"

"Oh, it's just all of the Lady's outfits that she has ever worn," Gimli replied.

Aragorn and Boromir exchanged glances for a moment and pondered if Gimli had, in fact, gone stark raving loony.

"What?" Gimli asked. "During my stay here in Lothlorien I became enamored with the sweetest angel to ever grace this ball of dirt."

"But you love dirt!" Aragorn said.

"Loved, Aragorn," Gimli corrected. "I loved dirt. For now, I am enamored with the fair Lady Galadriel. Her… and her angelic cooking!"

"You mean the mutant-stew that made everyone wish that they would never come near another morsel for as long as they lived?" Aragorn asked.

Gimli looked exasperated. "Aragorn! Do not even jest so about the Lady's cooking! For it is as wondrous as anything that has ever graced my common pallet."

"Oh, really?" Boromir said.

"Aye; it reminds me o' home," Gimli replied. "As I ate the divine stew wrought by the hands o' an angel…"

"Oh, dear Eru, I think I'm going to be sick," Boromir said, putting a hand to his mouth. "This is way too schmaltzy for me to bear!"

"Boromir, if you're going to throw up, please do it in the Anduin," Legolas said, flouncing up to them, holding a very enlarged travel pack to put it in the boat. "That way, none of the trees will be harmed by the high acidity of your vomit."

Boromir rolled his eyes and staggered over to the Anduin.

"… it reminded me of being back at my home, eating one o' me beloved mother's concoctions," Gimli sighed and put his hands to his heart at the memory, "I was in ecstasy."

As he said this, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimil could hear the retching of Boromir and a shout of, "Schmaltz-fest! Schmaltz-fest! Tell me when it's over!"

"So… did your mother really cook that horribly?" Legolas asked.

"Absolutely not!" Gimli exclaimed. "Me mother was the finest cook in all o' the Lonely Mountains!"

"No wonder they were lonely, then," Aragorn commented to Legolas, "The horrible cooking of the dwarves must have driven everybody away." Legolas smirked.

"Anyways, from that point on, I knew that only Galadriel was the one for me!" Gimli concluded as Boromir gagged again at the sappiness of Gimli's speech.

"Wow… you're creepy," Aragorn commented, "Almost as creepy as Sam and his obsession with Rosie," Aragorn gestured over to Sam, who was sitting next to Frodo in one of the boats, cuddling Rosie's dress.

Gimli looked offended. "I'm not creepy! I just need to have something of the Lady with me on our journey so that I can never forget her and cherish every memory I have of her!"

"Oh, gee, what memories are those, Gimli?" Aragorn asked. "You've only been around her for a few days!"

Gimli sighed. "Yeah, I know, but they were the greatest days of my life!" Boromir gagged again.

"So, Gimli, did the Lady let you take all of her clothes?" Aragorn asked, gesturing to the armoire.

"Well… uh… not exactly," Gimli replied.

"Then you stole it?"

"No."

"Then how did you get it?"

"Well… I, uh, borrowed it."

"You borrowed it," Aragorn repeated, not believing Gimli for a heartbeat.

"Yeah, I borrowed it without permission and with not intention of returning it," Gimli said.

"So you did steal it!"

"No!"

"That's what borrowing without permission and with no intention of returning is! It's stealing!"

"No, it's not."

"Oh, I give up!" Aragorn exclaimed, exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air.

"So, Gimli, how many more of the Lady's belongings did you, uh, 'borrow'?" Legolas asked.

Gimli toed the ground. "Everything," he replied.

"Everything?! What do you mean, everything?!" Aragorn exclaimed.

"Well… at night I went into her room and took everything that belonged to her," Gimli replied.

"So you robbed her blind?!" Aragorn exclaimed.

"No, I borrowed her blind!" Gimli said.

"That doesn't even make sense!" Boromir shouted from his position over the Anduin.

"Please, tell me that you at lease left her with something to wear, Gimli!" Aragorn said.

"I did," Gimli replied.

Aragorn sighed. "Good, then." He was silent for a moment and then said, "You should return this stuff immediately, but we're already pressed for time so I'll just ask you to lend your assistance in loading up the boats."

"Very well!" Gimli said and helped.

* * *

So, after all of the boats were loaded to the point where they almost took on water, they prepared to set out from Lothlorien. They were stopped for a moment and were given some type of special cloak from the Elves. And, to Sam's great joy, they were also given several coils of special Elvish rope. Then, they were off… or so they thought.

After they had just cast off from shore and paddled a few feet away, they hear Galadriel's voice cry out. "Wait, stop!"

The Fellowship all looked behind and saw a swan boat. Two elves were pedaling it as Galadriel and Celeborn sat on a higher part of the swan boat, doing nothing.

The company stopped rowing and watched this peculiarity. Soon, the swan boat drew up beside the boats of the Fellowship. The two elves who had worked so hard peddling the boat were now panting.

"Celeborn forgot to say goodbye," Galadriel explained. "And I wanted to have one last meal with all of you!"

The Fellowship's faces all turned green and they let out a simultaneous groan. However, they obliged since Celeborn and Galadriel had been kind enough to give them their boats.

The two panting servants hopped out of the swan boat and then set up a red and white checkered picnic cloth on the ground.

"And now," said Galadriel, "I will cook you all a bit of-"

"NO!" All of the Fellowship except for Gimli cried out. "Please, no!"

Galadriel sighed and huffed. "Very well, then, I shall not cook."

Everyone sighed in relief, except for Gimli, who let out a groan of longing.

"In your stead, milady, I shall cook lunch," Celeborn said.

Everyone looked at each other, not sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

* * *

Oooh! It's a cliffhanger! Will Celeborn be good or bad? You'll just have to wait until the next chapter to find out!

By the way, I'm sorry for the long hiatus from updating; it's just that I've been very busy. I expect that I won't be updating very often for a while, so I would like to apologize ahead of time.

I would like to thank Mina-chan AMD, Ainu Laire, MerryKK, Nelarun, Ogreatrandom, fair rider, Lalaithdil, Elvin BlueEyes, GreenWood Elf, tpfang56, and Glorfindel the Younger for reviewing for the previous chapter!

Please leave lots of reviews!


	17. Celeborn

Hiiiii! To those of you who are still reading this story, thank you for your patience! And I apologize for the delay; my Muse apparently has the attention span of a gnat. Or Pippin. Anyway, I will try to update more speedily in the future.

You should know the drill by now. I own nothing.

* * *

Celeborn smiled and gave a signal to the elf servants, who went over to the swan boat and opened another compartment and brought several items over to Celeborn and dumped it unceremoniously into a pile at Celeborn's feet. Out of this pile, Celeborn picked up a mushroom-shaped chef's hat and a white apron that said "Please Pity the Chef" and put these on.

"Seriously, this is really starting to annoy me," Gimli said. "Why does everyone seem to have these things?"

Merry smiled and shook his head and said, "Not everyone, Gimli. Pippin had a set once, but he ate it while we were on Caradhras."

"It's true," Pippin said with a slightly deranged smile.

"How come I'm not surprised?" Gimli asked.

"It's in his nature," Merry said with a shrug.

"But, you do admit that Pippin owned a pair at one time?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"So, how come everybody owns one of these?"

"It's one of those laws of nature that you just don't question," Merry said. "You just live with it."

At this point in time, Celeborn had sorted out the pile of items and had lit a fire over which he was boiling some water. Now he turned to the Fellowship and said, "I am sorry to say that you all must leave this site until I am finished cooking."

"Why?" asked the Fellowship in unison.

"What I am about to make for you is a secret family recipe. It has been passed down from generation to generation to generation to generation to generation and only those in our family may see it made," Celeborn replied, "Anyone else who witnesses it will… be cursed. Sometimes it's even fatal." He turned to Boromir with a sad expression on his face. Boromir stared back at Celeborn for a split second, wondering why this elf was always staring at him. It was starting to get mildly creepy.

Aragorn bowed to Celeborn and said, "We will happily oblige to the wishes of the Lord of the Golden Wood."

"No matter how eccentric," Boromir added on in a low murmur that neither Galadriel nor Celeborn could hear. He then received a prompt elbow in the ribs from Aragorn.

Celeborn, not noticing this silent exchange between the two men, said, "Thank you. We will send our servants with you as well since even they cannot see It cooked."

"I will come and fetch you when the time is right," Galadriel said, "Now, go!"

* * *

"It's been an awful long time," said Sam, pacing the length of the clearing in which the Fellowship was waiting. "It feels like it's been years since we came here. What could be taking so long?"

"One cannot rush perfection," Legolas murmured.

"What?" Sam asked, turning to face Legolas. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Legolas looked up from his compact mirror and said, "I'm sorry, Samwise, did you say something? I was rather busy with my appearance to listen."

"Nothing," Sam sighed in frustration as Legolas continued to softly brush his hair with his luxurious and completely feminine brush.

Merry and Pippin were leaning against a tree, holding a whispered conversation.

"So, what do you think 'It' is, Pip?" Merry asked.

"I dunno," Pippin replied. "But it must be something really special if he doesn't want us to see it being made, right?"

Merry frowned in thought. "You have a point, but he did say that it's a family recipe and if the rest of Galadriel's family cooks at all like she does, then I have a bad feeling this may be as bad as the Lady's stew… if not worse!"

"Oh come on… I didn't think it was that bad!"

"This coming from the guy who enjoyed Boromir's eyeball-and-moving-little-bits-of- Eru-only-knows-what-surprise stew," Merry retorted and Pippin glared at him.

At this point, Aragorn had heard them whispering and walked over with interest. "What are you two talking about? I heard something about the Lady's stew."

"We were trying to figure out what Lord Celeborn was making," Merry said, then paused as an idea came upon him, "Aragorn, I heard you've been to Lothlorien before. Do you know what Celeborn could be making?"

Aragorn smiled in understanding. "You want to know if it's going to be similar to the abomination of a stew that the Lady Galadriel made the first night of our stay?"

Merry and Pippin both nodded as Gimli came in on the conversation upon hearing Aragorn insulting Galadriel's cooking.

"What?! Who's daring to insult the wonderful Lady's cooking?!" Gimli roared, hand upon his axe.

Aragorn rolled his eyes at Gimli's blind infatuation. "It was pretty bad, Gimli; I'm just telling the truth."

"It wasn't horrible!" Gimli protested.

Aragorn sighed; he really did not want to deal with the headache that was the stubbornness of dwarves. "You're right, Gimli, I'm sorry," he said with his fingers crossed behind his back.

Gimli grinned. "Good to see some sense finally came to you."

"Now, as I was saying," Aragron said, focusing his attention back on to Merry and Pippin, "I know Galadriel's granddaughter, Arwen, and she's made their 'secret' family recipe for me before and it's not bad at all. In fact, it's got an almost _magical_ property about it."

"That's great to hear," Merry said with a sigh of relief.

"That's all fine and well, but what is it?" Pippin asked.

Aragorn smiled and said, "I'll let you be surprised on what it is. All you need to know is that it's very delicious."

"Even better than the Lady's stew?" Gimli asked. He had been listening in on the conversation just in case any more insults about Galadriel were stealthily dropped.

"Yes, Gimli, I can honestly say that what Celeborn is cooking will be more delicious than what the Lady Galadriel made for you that night."

"Well, I'll reserve my judgment until lunch," Gimli grumbled.

Silence filled the clearing. Merry and Pippin sat in thought, wondering what Celeborn was making. Aragorn took out his pipe and examined it. Gimli still grumbled to himself angrily about Aragorn's claims about the Lady's food. Frodo sat on a tree stump, looking at the ring, contemplatively. Sam continued to pace the clearing. Legolas experimented with how his hair looked parted to the right as opposed to the center.

Suddenly Aragorn looked up in alarm, surveyed the clearing, and said, "Has anyone seen Boromir?"

* * *

Boromir was crouched behind a large and thick patch of undergrowth, watching Celeborn adding ingredients to the boiling pot with relish. He didn't care about the warnings the elves had said; he figured as long as they couldn't see him, they would have no reason to curse him.

He silently chuckled to himself at the brilliance of his plan until he heard Celeborn say to Galadriel, "It's done, go and fetch them." Galadriel nodded and walked away.

Boromir swore under his breath and made his way to the clearing he had left earlier as quickly as possible without being seen.

* * *

When Boromir burst into the clearing, Galadriel had not yet come. Everyone in the Fellowship was desperately searching for him. As soon as he ran into the clearing, he tripped on Pippin, who was looking under a small rock, calling Boromir's name. Boromir swore as he twisted his ankle and skidded into the middle of the clearing.

When Pippin got up to see what had knocked him over, his eyes fell on Bormir, who was now screaming profanities as he clutched his right ankle. Pippin grinned and said, "Hey, it worked! I found Boromir, everyone! All I had to do was look under this rock!" Pippin pointed to the rock he was holding. "This rock must be lucky. I think I'll keep it!" Pippin grinned and put it in his pocket.

"Boromir, where were you? You weren't looking at what Celeborn was making, were you?" Aragorn asked.

"Well… you see… I…"

"Boromir?"

"I don't see what's so special about it! It's only--"

"You mean you saw him make it?"

"A little," Boromir replied sheepishly, "But they didn't see me so they should have no reason to--"

"You idiot!" Aragorn exclaimed, "Celeborn used magic to make that! There's an enchantment on the recipe that makes sure that if anyone sees…"

"Is everything okay here?" Galadriel asked, coming into the clearing. "I heard shouting."

Everyone froze. Even Legolas stopped caressing his perfect locks of gold. Aragorn just looked at her, furiously trying to think of a lie that she would believe. Finally, he smiled and said, "It was nothing, Milady. Boromir was merely pacing and twisted his ankle on a stray root. I was just yelling at him _for being so careless_…" He gave Boromir a fierce glance. "I'll just help him walk." Aragorn grabbed Boromir's arm and pulled him up.

"Very well, then," Galadriel replied, smiling at the clumsiness of men, "Follow me."

* * *

"Behold!" Celeborn exclaimed. "I give you…" Celeborn gestured to a picnic cloth with several bowls set on it. "…chicken noodle soup!"

The Hobbits were flabbergasted.

"Chicken noodle soup!" Pippin exclaimed. "_That's_ what you've been jealously guarding this whole time! _Chicken noodle soup_!!!! Why, anyone with half a brain could make Chicken noodle soup… er, no offense…"

"But it's a special kind of Chicken noodle soup," Celeborn replied.

"What's so special then?" Pippin demanded.

"It has alphabet letters in it…"

"That's it? That's--" Pippin started to exclaim, but Celeborn continued to speak.

"The letters, Master Took, spell out things about your future."

"Oh, please, that's such a load of--"

"Don't knock it until you try it, Pippin," Aragorn said with a smile. "When I had it, it was pretty accurate… except for the part where I get to marry the love of my life…" Aragorn sighed wistfully.

"Right, then…" Celeborn said. "Dig in!" He took up a ladle and poured the soup into ten bowls. He gave one to each member and then took one for himself and Galadriel.

Frodo cautiously stirred the soup with his spoon, watching the various letters swirl round and round in the broth. Then, something peculiar happened. Several letters swirled up from the bottom and stayed on the surface. They said, _'Future unclear. Please try again.'_

Frodo blinked. "Well, that's reassuring," he commented, "I think mine's broke, Celeborn."

"Really?" Celeborn replied, "Because mine is telling me that I will be miserable for the rest of my pathetic life. And I think that's pretty accurate." He cast a meaningful glance over at his wife, who was nonchalantly gulping her soup down.

Aragorn shook his bowl, "It keeps telling me that I'm going to be king! Dammit, what about marrying my true love? Show me that!" He shook the bowl harder, slopping some soup on his pants. He held back a curse as he looked at the bowl again. "Celeborn, I think the soup's broken. It's telling me that the future of my love life is unclear and that I should stir again."

Boromir frowned at his bowl and gently swished it. The letters came up to arrange themselves to form the word, _'death'_. He frowned and tried again. _'Amon Hen.'_ He frowned and tried again once more. _'Uruk-hai'_. And once more. _'Three arrows.'_

"Celeborn, I think the soup is broken. It's only giving me fragments."

Celeborn paused in mid-sip. "Really? What do they say?"

"Death, Amon Hen, Uruk-hai, and three arrows. What does that even mean?"

"Oh, no it's not broken," Celeborn said with a sad glance.

Boromir shuddered, thinking perhaps his over eagerness to see the soup being made had just cost his life. But how did that smug little elf even know about that? Honestly, this is why he hadn't wanted to leave Gondor in the first place.

Pippin was reluctant to look at his future in the soup. Personally, he thought food was food and if it did anything beyond being delicious it just wasn't right. But, since he didn't want to be the only one who wasn't looking at his future, he forbore on eating the soup and looked at it. _'Kidnapped by orcs.'_ Pippin blinked. _'Rescued. Will travel far and then serve under a crazed pyromaniac.'_

Pippin then leaned over to Merry and said, "What does yours say?"

"It says, _'Kidnapped by orcs. Rescued. Ride to battle with a suicidal transvestite.'_ That's really weird."

"I don't think these things are accurate at all," Gimli commented, leaning over to talk to the hobbits, "Mine says that I will never get what I desire and that I will leave Middle Earth."

"Mine says that I will fall in love with the sea," Legolas said with disgust. "But I do not like the sea. I like the forest where everything is green and good and filled with cute fuzzy animals! I would never love the ocean! It's too wet!"

"That's what she said," Pippin muttered.

"What was that?" Gimli and Merry asked, confused.

"Nothing," Pippin said with a grin, "You wouldn't get it. Your minds aren't nearly dirty enough."

"Clearly," Merry said with a roll of his eyes.

Sam looked at his soup, puzzled. His fortune seemed fairly good. It told him that he would marry the love of his life and would live a long and successful life. When he told everyone else, they laughed at him.

"Clearly the soup was ruined!" Aragorn remarked. "Who would ever think that something that good would happen to Sam?"

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean!" Sam snapped indignantly. "What makes it so impossible? Huh?"

"You don't want us to answer that, Sam," Frodo replied, "Trust me."

"So you all think something is wrong with the soup?" Celeborn said, "But how could such a thing have occurred?"

Boromir gulped and tried to make himself smaller, which was a very difficult task for such a large man. Luckily, before Celeborn could inquire whether anyone had gone to watch, Galadriel butted in.

"This is what happens when you don't do as I say!" she snapped at Celeborn. "I told you to use water from the mirror of Galadriel, but no! It had to be normal water! And if you'd just borrowed a valuable item of significance like, say, the Ring, then it would have turned out perfectly!"

"I followed the recipe word for word, _darling_," Celeborn retorted, "And it's worked for generations! If anything, your modifications would make things go worse!" he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Assuming that nobody saw it being made, perhaps Sauron's evil extends further than we'd previously thought."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Frodo asked.

"When Sauron ruled Middle Earth long ago, it is said that no good food could be made," Galadriel said ominously, "Good recipes went afoul; meat went bad; breads and cakes refused to rise. This is the true evil power of Sauron. Since there was no good food, troops went malnourished and it made it easier to suppress any rebellion that rose."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Boromir muttered, rolling his eyes.

Galadriel made no sign that she heard him and continued, "Since Sauron is returning to power, it does not surprise me that recipes are starting to go afoul," Galadriel turned dramatically towards Frodo, "This only makes your mission more important. As you grow closer to your destination, Sauron's power and influence will only increase. The enemy will be out looking for you in droves. Be sure that your recipes do not go afoul or you might end up making yourself more noticeable. Secrecy is your best asset at this point…"

Pippin opened his mouth to say something but Merry shoved a spoonful of soup in it before he could mention anything about what had already happened to give them away. Instead, after swallowing the soup, he said, "But it tastes fine to me."

"Excuse me?" Galadriel said, feeling shocked that someone had the impudence to interrupt her in the middle of her big speech.

"The soup. It tastes perfectly fine to me. If the recipe had gone wrong, wouldn't it taste bad?"

The rest of the Fellowship, hesitant to take Pippin's word on the quality of food, each ate a spoonful out of their respective bowls and agreed with Pippin.

Aragorn added, "It doesn't taste any different than it did when Arwen made it for me."

"That's because there's nothing wrong with it!" Celeborn spoke up, sick of his wife's lies. "Be mindful of what the soup tells you. It could save your life," he cast yet another sad glance at Boromir, who slowly began to have a feeling that there was more to the elf's constant staring at him than just being creepy. But before Boromir could put two and two together (which had always been a difficult thing for him since he had received a rather serious concussion after a basic math tutoring session many years ago), Celeborn looked away and said, "The soup knows all."

Frodo looked at his bowl and words swirled to the surface. _Indeed I do… Indeed I do…_ Evil laughter rang distantly in his ears and he couldn't help but feeling afraid.

* * *

I think I'll end the chapter here, just to make it suspenseful. I'm sorry I hadn't updated this in a while; I was caught up in other things. I would like to thank all of my readers and reviewers for being so patient with me. I am going to try to see this story through, though it is not a guarantee.


End file.
